


Masters of War

by servatia83



Series: Song of the Birds [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Game, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:18:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 67,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servatia83/pseuds/servatia83
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the third part of a series, and due to that, deviates from canon (people died, you know). BUT it can stand alone, as a little bit of an AU. Not even much. Just a matter of who was where when, mainly.</p>
<p>Lenkala Lavellan has to face Corypheus. Once that is over, all will be well. Aside from a few rows going on. Until the rows turn into something much more sinister.</p>
<p>So far, this is the last part. It certainly concludes the song-of-the-birds-arch. If there ever comes another DA-Game, who knows?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It’s the Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Title’s taken from a Bob Dylan song, although in my head I always hear the Flying Pickets.  
> The first chapter mainly serves to tie loose ends, at least some. It will all make more sense later. You know me (or not). There’ll be a more thorough A/N in the next chapter.  
> This first chapter is a bit opaque. If you know who the people are (you only have a chance if you’ve either read a particular DA novel or been very attentive to minute quests in Inquisition, and my two other Dragon Age texts), have fun! If not, you’ll find out eventually, it becomes clear.  
> Regarding timeline, this chapter is mostly pre-Inquisition, the next just after Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts. The second bit is a little later than the first, the third already very close to the actual text.  
> Chapter heading is a Within Temptation song. I do think it fits all three people.))

He wanted to gasp for much needed air, but he couldn’t. He might be heard. It was as it had been the first time he was on the run, only different. Then, he had nothing to lose. If he’d been caught, he’d have died without much of a fight. Now, he had a reason to throw all he had to whoever came for him. He’d give them a fight they’d never forget. Even if it was a Templar. He’d learned things that would surprise even them. The bundle cradled in his arms was trembling so badly he wondered if she was ill. ‘Daddy, please,’ the soft voice whispered, making him ache inside.

‘Quiet. You’ve got to be quiet.’ _Or we’re both dead._ He didn’t say that, hardly allowed himself to think it. Too close, the steps moved past him. His heart was beating so hard a more irrational man might fear that it would betray them. For no matter who they were, templars or rebel mages, they were enemies. He was a traitor either way. ‘Listen,’ he said, brushing the dark hair out of her face with a shaking hand. ‘We’re going … we’re going to hide. Thank the Maker my clothes don’t scream mage.’ In fact, they screamed warrior. Someone who knew business would see that the leather covering him hid mail, and the sword at his side would all but fly into his hand at a thought. There was also a very small dagger.

‘But …’

He shook his head and pressed his lips against her forehead. ‘No. Listen. My name is Levyn.’

‘Your name is …’

‘Please! Look … these people, they want to hurt you. And me, too. And we need to hide.’ He swallowed, forced himself to smile. ‘We’ll play pretend. I am Levyn. You are Ally.’

‘Will Mom come?’

The question made him want to give in to the pain and sit back and cry. He couldn’t. Not now. They had fought before he had left to fetch the frightened girl. Who she called Mom had wanted to keep him safe, but he had sworn to protect the poor kid with his life. In the end, he’d received a watery kiss, a plea to stay alive, and the whispered compliment that he had turned from a coward into a true protector. He found himself pretty craven, scared as he was. But he was trying.

Somehow, he found his voice. ‘I … not now, my love. But she’s all right.’ _Maker, please, let her be all right._ ‘She’s in Haven. She’ll come when she can.’

‘But if we hide …’

‘Hey,’ he interrupted her again, smiling for real this time. ‘We’re going to pretend to be peasants, but we’re still mages. Never forget it.’

‘I can’t use any magic, can I?’

‘I’ll keep teaching you, but we’ve both got to be very, very careful.’ _‘Cause there’s no precedent for_ that _ever going wrong._

‘If I don’t learn, a demon will take me.’

‘They told you that, did they?’

‘Yes. I can’t heal anything.’

He nearly laughed. She didn’t have his blood, but she was sometimes very much like him. ‘I know the feeling. You’ll learn, my darling. Be patient. Where we’re going, there are no other mages and no templars. Just us. And Mommy … she’ll find us. And if she doesn’t, we’ll find her. But for now, we’ve got to vanish. To the world, we’re dead, you and I, burning bodies back at the Tower. We’re Levyn and Ally. Your Mom, we’ll tell them, died when our farm was destroyed by … by apostates. Yes, they’ll believe that willingly enough.’

‘Will I go back to the Circle?’

He very nearly broke into hysterical laughter. ‘What Circle? The one that just got torn apart? No, my sweet, you’re staying with me now. Whatever it takes, I’ll never let anyone hurt you.’

‘Aisling and Anders …’

He shook his head, refusing to let their fates really get through to him just yet. His two best friends had done all they could to give him time to run with the child. They had paid with their lives, the image of Anders’s burnt face and Aisling’s head flying away while her body slumped to the ground forever branded into his memory. ‘They’re gone, love. I couldn’t stop it. They’re gone.’

Ϡ

A voice screaming havoc in her head, a voice that should not be there. A voice that had stolen half her friends. A voice that tried to force her into despair.

But she could not give in. Not when the one she loved might well be in captivity or worse. Until she set that right, she had to be strong, even when everyone else was gone, had scattered to the winds; to Kirkwall; to the breaking Circle of Ferelden; to wherever this thing was luring them – not to give in, but to destroy it if they could; to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. When they were all gone and she was almost alone, the letters, promised to arrive one per day, had ceased. Coincidence? Oh no. Maker have mercy on whose fault it was, because she most certainly would not. She released the prisoner they’d kept for too long.

He looked up, stared at her, disbelief clear on his face. ‘You can go. Whatever you looked for in Vigil’s Keep, it’s not here. Go away.’

And now, for the first time, he spoke, his voice low and deep. ‘I believed I would be executed. Or left to starve.’

She shook her head and glanced at the letter still clutched in her hand; the last one she’d received, too long ago. ‘I don’t know who you are. Maker, I don’t even know _what_ exactly you are. All I know is that I need to go to Kirkwall.’

For a moment, the elf frowned and he looked almost eager. Then his shoulders slumped forwards and he swallowed. ‘Thank you, Warden Commander. I hope you find what you seek there. I know I did not.’

Ϡ

‘We need help.’ They both knew it, but so far, she hadn’t uttered the words.

‘Why? Everyone gets kids.’ Denial, then. A mage should never allow himself denial, but it was so easy. For a mage as much as anyone else. As much as for a templar.

‘Not everyone’s addicted to lyrium! That aside, if the wrong people find out just who and what we are … I can’t even think of it.’

The fight bled out of her friend and lover, giving way to a deep desperation. His arms came around her, pulling her close. ‘And where do you suggest we find that help?’ The words were muttered into her neck.

She pulled away and their eyes met, the answer already there. ‘We both know from whom. And we both know where he is.’

 

 


	2. A Man of Sorrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Spoilers for the novel Asunder, all DA games, and for my two previous texts on them (By Any Other Name and Saving Us).  
> On the AU: I continue where I left off with Saving Us. When I started that, DA:II was a long way away. When I ended, I did that with a minute allusion to it that no-one is likely to find and that I picked up in the previous chapter. So while I got some things right (Tranquility can be undone – although I did it differently; but as that awful saying goes, there’s more than one way to skin a cat), some I can hardly leave as they are without saying anything or twisting things a little.  
> So can this stand alone?  
> Yes, absolutely. Either let the differences surprise you or read the text ahead.  
>  **At the end, Jowan was no longer Tranquil (which I assume his fate was) but a Grey Warden.  
>  A hardened Leliana was in Amaranthine, training recruits, after her journey to the Donarks (very high up North on a Thedas map. It’s there!) – see next paragraph.  
> Morrigan died, having gone and killed the remaining Old Gods with help (Warden Núria Tabris, Zevran, Leliana, and Jowan). Potentially problematic, this is one of the things where the AU comes in because I won’t go and resurrect her with some ridiculous deus ex machina.  
> Jowan and Leliana raised Morrigan’s Old God kid Darya until she showed magic at the age of about five. Then the kid went to the Tower. Oh, and Morrigan killed the human part of the kid because two souls in one person would be a problem.  
> Alistair caught a spell gone wrong – the first spell from Darya, as it were – and lost his mind as a result. He ended his life childless a while later, leaving Ferelden to an Anora probably beyond her child-bearing years.  
> Zevran never became a Warden but remained with Núria. He also never went to the Free Marches during DA:II, spending his time killing Gods instead and helping to raise a mage child. He went later, I decided in the previous chapter.  
> Anders never went at all. Justice flitted back into the Fade or something. Anders was a bit sick by the end, but nothing too worrisome and only physically. Doesn’t matter. Could be any mage in DA:II, no? So this is just AU.  
> The whole point of Morrigan’s grand plan was to stop future blights. Also, no Calling they hear can possibly be real. Remember that dwarf in Awakening, Utah? That ex-Warden with the Architect? Not dying? Not mad? Should be like that for them all, I figured, if you kill off the source. No?**  
> Building on this should be interesting, but certainly not impossible.  
> As far as I remember, I left off a few years after Awakening, so I should have time for the complete breakdown of all Circles. If not, please consider the inaccuracy part of the AU. I want my universe. Period.  
> Chapter heading’s an indirect quote since I am thinking of Händel’s Messiah.))

The Winter Palace, all things considered, had been a disaster. Lenkala had expected worse, being Dalish and a mage on top of that, but still, it had been a complete and utter disaster and she was still half surprised they were all alive.

Taking the Grand Duchess Florianne captive and dragging her to Skyhold hadn’t been anywhere near as satisfying as one might think. Sitting in judgement was probably Lenkala’s least favourite part of being Inquisitor. Fighting demons she could deal with. Getting so many different people in line was challenging, but fun at times. But this … she tried to be merciful, and she usually was, but this woman … What else than have her executed could she do?

The idea formed suddenly, and she smiled at the thought. ‘Inquisitor!’ She closed her eyes briefly and halted.

‘Yes?’

The bard caught up with her and guided her to the side of the room. ‘I … need to ask you a favour. A friend of mine sent a letter that … a common friend of ours is missing in the Free Marches. I can spare the resources to look for him, if you allow it.’

Lenkala blinked. ‘And you’re asking for permission why?’

Leliana smiled. ‘Because technically, they’re your spies. But point taken. Thank you.’

‘Do you have a way out of this judgement sitting business?’

The bard snorted. ‘Sorry. No. I don’t envy you for that bit. Not that I envy you for any other part of it.’ She frowned. ‘If you’ve got a moment after that trial, I’d like to talk about the apostate from the Winter Palace.’

Lenkala tilted her head. ‘Are you going to tell me why you reacted as if you’d seen a ghost when we ran into him?’

Leliana raised her hands in an almost defiant gesture. ‘What shall I say … I think it’s time I level with you, and if I do, this … this apostate is someone else that needs explaining. I’ll ask him to join us, too.’ She looked at the Inquisitor with a small, almost shy smile. ‘I … think I need someone to know the whole truth, and you’ve become a real friend to me. Perhaps … that’s naïve. Is it?’

‘No. I’m very curious what this is going to be.’ Lenkala licked her lips. ‘We can do that now, can’t we? Let someone else handle that damn duchess and chat about your old friends and apostates?’

Leliana’s eyes narrowed and she leaned closer. ‘You wish,’ she whispered. ‘Off you go. Give her hell.’

Ϡ

While Josephine announced the duchess, Lenkala watched the hall. Everyone was there with the notable exception of the apostate fresh from Orlais, her closer friends near the throne. Even Cole had come, skulking at the door to the undercroft, not quite as invisible as he’d been just a short while ago. Varric leaned against the wall near him, keeping an eye on the young man. Dorian looked almost thrilled for whatever reason. The rest was just curious what she’d do with the noble woman but more or less neutral.

The door at the far end banged open, but it wasn’t the guards with Florianne that came in. Instead, a tall slim figure wrapped into a cloak approached, their head hooded, not an inch of skin visible. What was visible was the hilt of what might be a very huge, very deadly sword behind their back. They crossed the rapidly silent hall with long, hard strides. The two guards next to Lenkala’s throne tensed but remained still. ‘Where is he?’ the stranger asked, identifying the person as a male.

Lenkala opened her mouth and closed it. ‘Where is ... who exactly?’

‘Where is …’ The last word drowned in the electrical crackling of a spell. The stranger had started up the stairs, but before the guards could so much as draw their swords, a spell had caught him in mid-step and yanked him backwards. His hood was whipped from his face, revealing an elf.

As if the situation wasn’t bizarre enough, several things happened at once after the man’s face was revealed. Varric, Cullen, a very young guardsman, and Dorian started towards the man in unison. The guard crossed into the cage the spell – Dorian’s, Lenkala assumed – had created despite Cullen’s shout to halt, sword drawn and ready to cut the unprepared man in half. Lenkala and Varric yelled their protest, but before the shout had died on their lips, the elf glowed in an eerie light and the guardsman fell dead to the ground. Lenkala’s confusion peaked when the elf threw himself into the cage, struggling against the spell in a desperate and futile attempt to grab Dorian.

Cullen followed the dead man’s example and stepped inside the cage. He didn’t draw, however. He positioned himself between Dorian and the elf, hands outstretched as if to keep them apart but unwilling to attack either of them. The mage was unleashing a harsh stream of what could only be Tevene, the face of the elf contorted with pure hatred as he spat out the same language. Blood was running from his nose after his mad attempt to get past the barrier. Varric tried to talk him down, it seemed, and Cullen, at last, looked to Lenkala.

‘Stop it, all of you, right now!’ Her yell drowned in the voices of the three men involved in the shouting match and the noise of Dorian’s slowly faltering spell. Letting her anger take form, Lenkala grabbed her staff, which leaned against the throne, and slammed it into the ground hard.

The ensuing clap of thunder, loud enough to make her ears ring, was enough to silence everyone for the second time in less than a minute. ‘Stop. Right. Now.’ Her voice was quiet but firm. ‘Cullen, seize this man. Hold his hands tight.’ She’d seen what he’d done to the guard, but how was beyond her. She strode towards the elf, now standing meekly with his hands behind his back, held there by the templar. ‘Who are you?’

‘Vishante kaffas.’

These words were the only Tevene she had bothered to learn from Dorian, and they weren’t a name. ‘Dorian, who is this man?’

The mage pursed his lips. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’

‘You just yelled at a random visitor? I don’t think so. What’s he doing here?’

Dorian shot her a half smile. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea.’ Something on Lenkala’s face must have shown that she wasn’t in the mood for this particular kind of humour, and he continued. ‘I thought he was going to attack you, the way he started towards the throne, and your guards weren’t moving.’

‘Sorry if I interrupt this,’ Varric said in a deliberately calm tone. ‘Perhaps I can help out. This is Fenris. Oh, don’t look at me as if I’d told her a dirty secret, it’s just your name. Cullen and I know him from Kirkwall. Ah, how do I say this? Well … Dorian … I think you should leave.’

Dorian’s eyes went wide. ‘Excuse me?’

Varric sighed. ‘Just until we’ve all calmed down a little and I’ve had a moment to explain to my friend just why a mage from Tevinter is my friend, too. Please.’

‘Let me think … er … no.’

‘Dorian stays,’ Lenkala said. She had enough of this. Only a few days ago she had almost strangled the chantry woman she’d allowed to stay in her herb garden for suggesting – again! – that she sent the mage away just because of what he was. He was part of the Inquisition. End of story. ‘Can this person talk?’

‘He can,’ Cullen said. ‘Fenris, I think I know why you’re here, and you’re not helping your cause.’

At last, Fenris directed his baleful stare from Varric to her. ‘Where is Hawke?’ The words came in a forced calm Lenkala didn’t buy. ‘I know he was here. Where is he now?’

‘Venhedis,’ Dorian said, then bit his lower lip. ‘And there’s more truth in that than you’d think.’

‘I am not asking _you_.’

Lenkala raised her hands. ‘The next person who is unable to keep up a civil conversation is sent to the jail overnight.’

‘You want me to be civil? Treat me like a person and not like a dog.’

‘You killed one of my guards.’

‘In all fairness, Lenka, your guard attacked first and without provocation. The poor soul just defended himself.’ Both Lenkala and Fenris stared at Dorian, who shrugged. ‘Just saying.’

She frowned. ‘Yeah. True. If Cullen lets you go, will you rip my heart out? Or Dorian’s?’

‘No,’ the elf grated.

She nodded to Cullen who seemed glad he could release Fenris. ‘Right. Now … Hawke. Hawke was here, but he’s gone.’ Fenris tensed visibly but didn’t seem to want to attack. ‘I fear that he is dead, but I can’t know. We … went to the Fade and he volunteered to stay behind. He … is the only reason that we’re having this conversation. He sacrificed himself for the rest of us.’ Fenris’s eyes closed. He wandered to the nearest chair and slumped into it. ‘I … am sorry,’ Lenkala said. When the elf remained silent she looked at Dorian. ‘You addressed him in Tevene. Why?’

Dorian gave a small, humourless laugh. ‘I don’t know how to explain that in one sentence.’

Lenkala’s patience had worn out the moment the guard had died. ‘Dorian, I’m warning you. Talk. You’ve got as many sentences as you need.’

The Tevinter mage closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Let me put it that way,’ he said slowly. ‘I … was supposed to marry the daughter … or was it the niece, I forgot … of a certain magister who liked to experiment. He told my father about some of his projects, you see. He was quite proud of them. He experimented on various slaves, a lot of them died. One of these experiments … involved lyrium and creating the ultimate weapon. I remember that he eventually said that with one of the slaves he kept for special purposes he had finally succeeded.’

‘Special purposes?’ Lenkala asked, feeling a nagging suspicion forming in her mind.

Dorian made a face. ‘He didn’t elaborate, and my father didn’t ask. Neither did I. I was younger and more naïve than now, you see, and sometimes I preferred not to know everything.’ A slow smile formed on Dorian’s face. ‘To the best of my knowledge, said magister is dead now. I must admit, he had it coming.’

Again, Fenris looked at Dorian with considerable scepticism, but he remained silent.

‘Anything to add?’ Lenkala prompted.

‘Danarius is dead. Yes.’

Dorian merely shrugged. He glanced at the elf with something between pain and intrigue. ‘You must be in constant pain. I can’t even begin to imagine it. And I know … I know what sort of person Danarius was.’ He looked at Lenkala again. ‘You know, he looked right through me. Suggested I marry his … whatever she was, said I could always keep a few slaves on the side since they had no right to object to my advances.’ Dorian’s upper lip curled in obvious repulsion. ‘Short version, this man here is a symbol of everything that’s not right in Tevinter.’

Lenkala looked back at Fenris. ‘Hawke and you …’ When no reaction came, she looked at Varric instead.

‘Yeah,’ the dwarf said simply. ‘Fenris … I don’t know what to say.’

‘There is nothing left to say.’

‘There is.’ Lenkala stood. ‘Josie, see that Fenris gets quarters as soon as this Florianne business is done with.’ The Antivan took a quick note and nodded. ‘I will not put you in jail but someone will keep an eye on you for the moment. Dorian … you and Solas put your heads together. I want … I want to know what happened to Hawke. I’ve wanted to know right away, and now I’m done staying in the dark. Perhaps that apostate’s got something useful to say, too, since he insisted to come here.’ She huffed. ‘I’ll join you in the fun. And bring Vivienne, too.’ She looked to Fenris again. ‘I’ll let you know whatever I find out.’ All she got was a nod. Lenkala made a vague gesture in Cullen’s general direction. ‘Well, bring that woman.’

‘She’s already here,’ one of the guards said. They had retreated away from the hassle with her. When they had come in was beyond her, but considering what had happened, it was not so surprising she had missed something so trivial.

Lenkala settled in her throne again and looked at the stunned woman. ‘Not quite like an Orlesian ball, no? Any regrets?’ It was clear that the woman had none. When she’d had her say, Lenkala did what she’d thought she might. It had been just a wild idea, but after the appearance of the stranger she was irritable enough to go through with it. ‘You know … I think you can do with some fresh air and a little bit of humility. You’ll work at a farm. And make no mistake, you’ll be watched.’

‘You are willing to treat that animal better than me?’ the noble woman spat.

‘You know, if he hadn’t been attacked in the first place I doubt anything worse than me getting my feathers ruffled would have happened. Speaking of animals … I’ll make sure you’re going somewhere with a pigsty for that remark. Get her out of my sight.’

Ϡ

Slowly, the room had cleared. Fenris had been escorted to a spare room in the tavern by Varric, Dorian had vanished – probably into the library – and Cullen had personally carried out the dead guardsman, muttering something about being too green for a sword and having told somebody so. Finding herself unwatched for a moment, Lenkala buried her face in her hands and sighed. ‘You were right, you know.’ She jumped slightly, then snorted.

‘Thanks, Cole.’ She tilted her head. ‘You’ve been very quiet since our meeting with your templar.’

‘He’s not my templar,’ Cole told her seriously. ‘The elf. Fenris. He has wounds. Deeper, darker than anyone else’s here.’

‘Dorian hinted something about the markings being painful.’

Cole shook his head and looked at a point way behind her. ‘Not them. Deeper. More hidden. He looks away from that pain, fears it. Fears what it could make him become. He refuses to remember. Too much to bear. Too deep to heal.’

‘Did Hawke do that?’ Whatever _that_ was, Lenkala had no idea.

Cole focussed on Lenkala again. ‘No. Hawke … Hawke is a missing piece of a part of himself. What he couldn’t push away hard enough at first was torn out against his will when he believed he needed to hold it instead. No longer bleeding, but still a scar. Perhaps tearing when touched, tender. This, he looks at. All the time until the sight makes him ill.’

‘Talk to him if you want to. But be careful. The way he felled that guard … I don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘I won’t.’

‘And … I was thinking of you when I said I want him watched. Keep an eye on him, but by all means stay out of arm’s reach. Literally.’

Cole looked at the chair Fenris had occupied before, then at her. ‘I will, Lenka.’

 

 


	3. Follow Me Back Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is taken from the Delain song Nothing Left, but out of context.  
> Also, while I did proofread this chapter, I edited it quite heavily, so I may have missed something.))

‘Brasca.’ Zevran stared at the innocent piece of parchment in his hands. At his own handwriting. ‘Oh … oh no. No!’ Venting his rage, he kicked the bag full of trash next to the shelf holding letters. A bunch of them were his. Here. They had never left the city, had never reached Núria. She knew he wouldn’t just vanish if he had any choice. No more letters must have meant that one way or another the choice was taken from him. Breathing hard, he banged his fist against the door of the office the self-proclaimed agent inhabited.

‘What now?’ the man asked.

‘What the blight is that?’ Zevran thrust the letter into the agent’s hand.

‘A letter. We got a bunch of them. Most are pointless, but that one person was different. We suppose it’s some sort of code, never figured it out though. Daily reports, you see, sent to Ferelden.’

Zevran wanted to strangle the man, but the fool probably wasn’t the one who had intercepted the letters in the first place. ‘They’re not code! They were from me, sent to Núria Tabris to stop her from worrying. There’s nothing more about them.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yes. Oh.’ Zevran saw the fear in the man’s eyes. ‘If I thought killing you would undo the damage this might have caused, I would,’ he said casually. ‘As it is, I need to find out if it did cause harm. Do you still have all the letters? Then I can find out what her last information was, perhaps.’

‘Yeah, they’re all together. We don’t have more than these. At least from the one sender. You need the others as well?’

‘The others? Figures. Did you monitor all mail sent from Kirkwall?’

‘Only if it went to Ferelden.’

‘Did you bother sending any of these letters on to wherever they were meant to go?’

The officer shrugged. ‘If we were certain they were just plain old letters.’

‘You’ve got some nerve. Why?’

‘We were to find out where Hawke is.’

‘If he’s got any sense, you’ll never find him. Why go to such lengths for the man anyway? You’re not really working for the city, are you?’

The agent didn’t even need to answer. His expression spoke volumes. ‘No. I work for a separate … organisation.’

‘Which one?’

‘Look, I really can’t tell you.’

‘Is being silent worth your life?’

The man stared. ‘What?’

‘My business here is done. You see, I’m here because I’ve been threatened. It happens. A lot. But this time, it sounded determined. And it came from here. I managed to get rid of that particular threat, and I intended to go back home. Home being Vigil’s Keep. But now, I assume I would find Vigil’s Keep short one important individual, all because of your organisation. So who do I blame?’

‘You don’t sound Fereldan.’

Zevran folded his arms. ‘Because I come from Antiva. I used to be a Crow. Are you sure you don’t want to talk?’

‘I … please, don’t do this.’

‘Talk and I’ll leave you alone.’ He offered a humourless smile. ‘I mean that.’

‘I work … she’ll kill me … Maker. I work for the Nightingale.’

For a moment, Zevran was just stunned. Then he laughed. The agent looked more frightened than ever. ‘Leliana?’ he asked, just to be sure. ‘That’s just too good. Do me one more favour. Find out if Núria Tabris is in Kirkwall. I suppose she had enough time to reach here by now. And send a letter to Leliana. Tell her I found you and threatened you and that you talked. I’ll make sure she doesn’t kill you. If I find Núria in time to do so. You may want to hurry.’ Zevran shook his head and made his way to the inn he was staying in.

‘Wait! I don’t even know who you are!’

He stopped but didn’t turn to look at the man again. ‘Zevran. Pleased to meet you.’

Ϡ

Cities that were a mess were something Núria was painfully familiar with. But Kirkwall beat them all.

From what she’d heard, it was small wonder. On every corner there were pictures, worn and dirty but some still recognisable, showing the Champion of Kirkwall. The city was apparently looking for him. Why … well. He was a mage, and he had been part of the battle that had thrown the city into chaos.

Given the state of the place, it was difficult to find anyone who didn’t want to be found. Núria didn’t want to use the guards to look for Zevran. She was on her own. In any normal city, she’d have slunk into the alienage and asked around. But here, the alienage was more of a mess than the one in Denerim, and that was saying something.

‘You are Núria Tabris.’

She swore inwardly and turned. The man before her wore tattered clothes. ‘What makes you so sure?’

‘I have a message for you. Come to the Lowtown docks as soon as you can.’

‘Why would I?’

The man shrugged. ‘You look for Crows. The Crows have found you first.’

That was not ideal. Perhaps she should find help, after all. While Núria had been asking around, she hadn’t been too open about it. There was that shoddy inn where all those with something to hide gathered, and she’d listened in on a few conversations. She’d asked one man who’d hired someone if the other had been a Crow. Other than that, she had been more than a little cautious. The last thing she wanted was draw the attention of a Crow cell, or worse, alert them to her if they held Zevran – assuming that he still lived.

In fact, what Núria had tried was to get in touch with someone who could help. Someone like the people who had aided the Champion of Kirkwall. They seemed a useful bunch. She had found out their names easily enough, had tried to find a dwarf named Varric and an elf named Fenris. Neither of them were anywhere in Kirkwall, it seemed. Now, while none of those Núria had actively tried to get in touch with were anywhere within her reach, the Crows had sent an emissary. Great. ‘You found me,’ she ground out at last. ‘Find someone else for whatever you want done. Hawke. Or Varric. Or any of these people around Hawke.’ While Núria doubted they had sought her out to hire her, she decided to play dumb. Perhaps that was the wisest course of action.

‘I have no knowledge regarding Hawke’s whereabouts. I advise you to meet our agent.’

‘I’ve met more Crows than I care about,’ Núria said sharply. ‘Many of them are dead now.’

‘No need for bloodshed. Be there.’ The man turned and walked away. Whatever this was, she’d better be alert.

Ϡ

Núria hurried to the docks, making sure that no-one followed her. Finding help would take too long. Depending on how many there were, she might be able to take them out or run for it. She did know how the Crows fought, after all, giving her an advantage others didn’t have. On the surface, it seemed like there was one hooded figure sitting against a wall. Classical. Show one person, let her think she was safe. The rest would be lurking elsewhere. Núria had been to the docks before, knew the possible escape routes. She checked every doorway, took note which alley would take longest for anyone to cover. The verdict wasn’t good. If she was ambushed, they could close the area off quickly. So she stayed where she was and watched.

For all the movement the figure made in that quarter of an hour, they might be dead. Perhaps they were. ‘Oi!’ she called. ‘You there. You the one that wants to see me?’ The figure raised a hand, proving at least that they were alive. ‘You want something? You meet me in the Hanged Man. I’ll wait for fifteen minutes. You don’t show, it wasn’t important.’ No reaction. Shaking her head, Núria retreated, keeping a careful eye on her surroundings.

In the Hanged Man, Núria sat down in the centre of the room. She had learned long ago that being in a public place was usually the best defence against assassins. Not that it necessarily meant she wouldn’t be attacked, but it meant that any attack would cause a major confusion. Confusion meant she could escape.

She had barely sat down when the door opened. She glanced there and her heart all but stopped from the heady rush of emotion. A shout escaped her lips, turning every head in the tavern. She didn’t care, sprinted towards the laughing man and caught him in a tight embrace, clutching him as if for dear life. ‘What’s this, _mi amora_?’ Zevran whispered into her neck. ‘Where’s your famed composure?’

‘I was scared!’ She pulled away and managed a dour expression. ‘You promised to write. Why did you stop?’

He made a face and led her back to her corner. ‘I didn’t. My letters were intercepted. I’m so sorry.’ He placed his hands on the table, and she took them, intertwining their fingers.

‘Look, we need to be careful. Someone wants to meet me.’

‘Yes? Well, that would be me.’

‘Thought it was a strange coincidence.’ Somehow, Núria just couldn’t stop grinning, and judging from Zevran’s expression, that was contagious.

‘Thing is, there’s something afoot. Something that isn’t good. The strangest things have happened here.’ His tone was light, an easy smile on his face, but she knew this man better than anyone else in the world. He was dead serious. Happy about their reunion, but serious.

‘Yes. Did you hear about the Chantry? Some madman blew it up.’

‘I also heard who that was. Anders.’

Núria stared. ‘Our Anders? He wouldn’t have … Hang on. He _couldn’t_ have, he was in Vigil’s Keep with us. He was never gone long enough.’

‘Remember when you got a report on three missing people from our lot, one of them a mage? We thought they’d been killed. My guess is the mage disposed of the other two and came here pretending to be someone else. Anyway, he’s dead now. The Champion chose to kill him, whoever he really was.’

‘Oh, that’s just nasty, befouling his name like that. Poor Anders, he’d never hurt a soul if he could help it. Zev, everyone’s gone. Almost. After what happened here, Jowan and Anders went to the circle and I haven’t heard from them since. All I know is that there’s a war and that … thing in the sky and the Calling. I mean, it stopped, but I’ve still got no clue what started it in the first place. I want to know what’s going on, this is killing me.’

‘I thought you might say that.’ He took her hands. ‘I’m done here. One less Crow cell. Perhaps this is enough to teach them to leave me alone.’

‘I doubt it.’

‘Well, for the moment, it doesn’t matter. What do you want to do, my love?’

‘I want to find Leliana. She went to Haven, and after the debacle there … did you hear that?’

Zevran snorted. ‘This is a city, not Lothering. Yes, I heard. She’s founded some sort of Inquisition and they’re looking for the Champion of Kirkwall. Or were, today my contact said they had him.’

‘I thought that was the city, hunting him.’

‘No. What do you say, do we go and ask our friend what the verdict is? Could well be the end of the world.’

‘You’re always the optimist, aren’t you?’

Zevran grinned and leaned over the table to kiss Núria. ‘If it is, I’d like to give it one last good kick. You in?’

‘Well, if this _is_ the end of the world, I’d rather know it in advance. Any idea where that Inquisition is? Last I heard they were in Haven.’

‘Haven’s gone. They’ve moved to some sort of mountain fortress. Skyhold, I believe. At any rate, they aren’t hiding, so finding them shouldn’t be the problem.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I will change POV, obviously. I’ve got one more that needs attention, but that will have to wait a bit.))  
>  


	4. Control the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter heading is a song by Delain.))

The knock on Lenkala’s door wasn’t entirely unexpected. She would meet with the other mages in an hour. Until then, she had hoped she could collect her thoughts, but somehow she had already guessed that she would have a visitor. After all, what they wanted to do was no small feat, and she wanted to figure out for herself if knowing the truth was worth the risks. ‘Come in, Leliana.’

The bard opened the door. She wasn’t alone. The mage from the Winter Palace was with her. The two exchanged a glance. ‘First … thank you for allowing him to come. I’d have begged you if you hadn’t agreed.’

Lenkala looked at the man. He seemed tired. And shy, his cheeks flushing when their eyes met. ‘You know each other, I take it.’

‘That is an understatement,’ Leliana said quietly. ‘The long version … is for another time. The short one is, he is a Grey Warden. He also has a foster child, who came with him. That girl happens to be my foster child, too.’

Lenkala tried to make sense of that statement and failed. ‘Ah … what?’

‘My name isn’t Levyn,’ the mage said at last. ‘I am Jowan. I … was an apostate and got conscripted by the Hero of Ferelden. I had been made Tranquil before that, but it was undone. The mother of our child is dead and I promised to take care of her. We raised her together.’

Lenkala’s eyebrows had shot skywards when Jowan said he had been Tranquil. The man should talk to Cassandra. Perhaps he had useful information for her. But there was something else she wanted to know, too. ‘Wait. Are you two an item?’

The small smile on Leliana’s face was telling already. ‘Yes.’

‘I thought you’re a sister.’

Leliana made a face. ‘Yes. I was once, but … Look, I _was_ a confidant of the Divine and her friend. That wasn’t a lie. None of it was. Except that I hadn’t seen her in a long time because I was in Vigil’s Keep.’

‘I still don’t get it. Why do you use a false name, Jowan?’

‘I needed to while we were on the run. I couldn’t risk anyone remembering what I was. I decided it was wiser in Orlais, too. You see … I’ve done things I’m not proud of, and I didn’t want attention.’

‘And so you went to the Winter Palace? That makes no sense.’

‘I didn’t stroll in there the moment I set foot in Orlais. Once invited, I could hardly say, oh, and my name isn’t Levyn after all.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I don’t know. If Cullen hears my real name, he’ll remember. I avoid him like the plague because of that. He’d want my head, and I can’t blame him.’

‘You’re still under my protection,’ Lenkala said gently. ‘But remain Levyn, if you like. Your daughter …’

‘Darya. That’s her real name. And don’t call me Levyn. I’m sick of hiding, and if I want to keep that cover he can’t do so much as glance at me. I refuse to live in the dark.’

Lenkala nodded slowly. ‘Understandable. Jowan, then. Good that I haven’t introduced you yet. People would think I’m completely confused.’

The anxiety drained out of the man at her light tone. Leliana put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Lenkala couldn’t help smiling. ‘Will you help us? I need your input on something.’

A smile tugged at Jowan’s lips. ‘As best I can.’

Ϡ

Fenris opened the door of his room and glared outside. His hearing was good enough to notice someone sneaking around now and then, and the intervals suggested that it wasn’t coincidence. He expected someone in armour. He found a young man who looked almost shocked at his sudden appearance. He must be one of the servants, and by the looks of his clothes, he wasn’t well paid. If at all. ‘Hypocrites,’ he said. ‘You’re all hypocrites.’

The uncertainty on the other man’s face was clear. ‘I … am sorry. I didn’t mean to … I can’t do it anymore, I wish I could.’

Apparently, the young person was not only wearing old leather but also clearly confused. ‘Are you lost?’ Fenris asked, hoping the answer was no. He wouldn’t be much help, having only just arrived.

‘Lost? No. Found.’ The young man shook himself visibly. ‘I am Cole. I want to help you.’

‘Hang on. I saw you with the Inquisitor. You were there when I arrived, in the throne room.’

Cole looked past – no, _through_ Fenris and when he spoke again, his voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Lost. Breaking. Broken. Burnt and brittle. Don’t let him touch me. Don’t let him take me! Kill him … kill him and run. Run, run, run!’

Fenris felt as if he had been thrown into a frozen lake in full armour. ‘What are you?’

‘I am Cole. I … want to help.’

‘You’re doing a lousy job.’

‘He won’t hurt you.’ The cool blue eyes settled on Fenris’s green ones. ‘He would never do this thing to you. To anyone.’ Before Fenris could slam the door shut on the man, his eyes closed as if he had been hit, and Fenris kept watching, fascination winning out over sheer alarm. ‘Don’t ask him. Don’t make it worse. You need not know everything … not this time. Not of him.’ He looked again. ‘He knows. Or guesses. He won’t tell. You need not be afraid.’

‘I am _not_ afraid of the man.’ Fenris hardly recognised his own voice. ‘I’ll ask again. What are you? A mage? I don’t think so.’

‘I’m not a mage. I am human. Somewhat. I am to keep an eye on you. I met Hawke.’

The non-sequitur caught Fenris completely off guard. Whatever Cole was, insane or on some sort of horrible substance, he knew Fenris’s thoughts. He grabbed him and pulled him inside. ‘Do you know where he is?’

‘In the Fade.’ Cole said this very patiently, as if explaining it to a child. He was also completely calm, despite the fist still clutching his collar.

‘So I’ve heard. Do you know what happened there?’ The next thought struck him out of the blue. ‘Are you a demon?’

Another would have seen the sudden glow of Fenris’s lyrium markings and be scared. Not this one. If anything, he appeared thrilled. ‘How do you do that?’ Fenris refused to answer, just stared the being down. ‘I am not a demon. I was a spirit. Now I am more human.’

‘A spirit?’

‘Solas says Compassion.’

After a moment of hesitation, Fenris released Cole. ‘Sounds better than some. If it’s true. I still don’t trust you. Where is Hawke? Don’t say in the Fade. You’d regret that.’

Cole shook his head, looking sad. ‘I wanted to tell you that I don’t believe the mages can find him. No being can live in the Fade so long. Not like this. It would have consumed us all if we hadn’t got out.’

‘If you’re a spirit, you know the Fade. Can we find some proof of his death? Anything?’

‘Spirits would know. Those that live in the part of the Fade where we were. The mages could ask them. They are discussing it right now. What to do. How to look. Then you will know, too.’

Ϡ

‘We cannot do it,’ Vivienne said simply. ‘We are not enough.’

Dorian rubbed his forehead. ‘Why not?’

Pointing from one to the next with herself last, Vivienne counted. ‘One, two, three, four, five. Four, since one mage must go. It’s just …’

The door opened by a fraction, showing a sliver of Cole’s face. ‘Sorry, but …’

‘Get out, demon.’

Dorian stood abruptly. ‘Vivienne, don’t be so rude. Come on in, Cole.’

The young man fixed his gaze on Dorian rather than the woman but stayed put. ‘No.’

‘Well, what can we do for you?’

‘Not for me. I know you don’t want to be disturbed, but he insisted.’

Dorian was going to ask what Cole was going on about when a growl came from behind the door. ‘This is my problem more than theirs. I want to know what they plan to do.’ Dorian closed his eyes and sighed.

‘Fenris. Come in, why don’t you. Thank you, Cole.’

‘Lenka …’

Lenkala chuckled. ‘I think we’re enough to handle Fenris. You can go.’

‘What?’ Dorian asked.

‘I asked him to keep an eye on him.’ Cole vanished and was replaced with the elf. He had come unarmed. Either that was a demonstration of power or a gesture of peace. Dorian wasn’t certain, but he would give him the benefit of the doubt. ‘This isn’t a secret meeting. You’re welcome to listen.’

‘I talked to your demon. I’m not sure he understood that part.’

Vivienne laughed. It was completely mirthless. Lenkala ignored her. ‘He’s not a demon. We can discuss him later.’ She looked at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Vivienne … At the moment I don’t worry about our number so much as about something much more basic: Does any of us know how to do this spell?’

‘I do,’ Jowan, as the mage Lenkala had brought back from Orlais had been introduced, said at once. ‘I’ve done it before.’

‘Good. How many were you?’

The mage bit his lip and glanced away, but only for a moment. ‘Just me.’

Lenkala stared. Dorian leaned back in his chair. He knew only one way how that was possible. Surely, that couldn’t be the case. ‘What? Then what’s stopping you from doing it again?’

‘Ah … the circumstances were … Oh, who am I kidding? I had a sacrifice’

For a moment, Dorian just took in the inconspicuous man and the look on Vivienne’s face, and he couldn’t help it. He burst into a laughing fit he tried and failed to control. ‘Look at you all,’ he managed, wiping over his eyes. The scandalised expression on Vivienne’s face didn’t help him get a grip. ‘Oooh, a mage from Tevinter, he must be a blood mage. No _way_ he’s not. And then we pick up this nice little fellow, and he tells us completely unfazed that he murdered someone to kick someone else into the Fade.’

‘This is not a laughing matter,’ Vivienne said sharply.

‘Indeed. Hypocrites! I do so love you all, but you’re all hypocrites.’

Lenkala had a pained smile on her face, Solas looked as sombre he always did, Fenris stared at him before turning away with obvious disgust, and Jowan seemed to want to sink into the floor. Still, he answered quickly. ‘I don’t use blood magic unless it’s a matter of life and death. And I certainly won’t hurt anyone, willing or no, because the circumstances aren’t anywhere near as dire.’ He looked at Fenris and shrugged. ‘You’re the one who asked for this I’m told, so it’s you I’m answering. Sorry, but I’m not doing it.’

‘I should hope not.’

Dorian snorted. ‘Well, still, Jowan, you know the spell. You can’t go. Also, what none of you have addressed yet is that we’ve got to time this. The part of the Fade where Hawke was left isn’t exactly safe, I gathered, so we can only send someone for a spell, no pun intended. We need someone here who can tell how time passes in the Fade. Out of the top of my head, I’d say the only one with a chance at that is Solas.’

The elven mage nodded slowly. ‘I can do that, but I can do it from either side.’

Dorian grinned at him. ‘Yes. But then you might decide to look a little longer, just a little longer, and the something happens. Just to be safe, I think you should stay here.’

‘That sounds wise.’

‘Lenka is too important to risk her,’ Dorian continued, earning a scowl. ‘That leaves Vivienne or me to go to the Fade.’

The first enchanter raised her hands. ‘No. I won’t work with a blood mage. I’m out.’ She had left the room before anyone could protest.

‘I can go.’

Lenkala shook her head at Fenris. ‘You’re not a mage. You can’t.’ Dorian glanced at the elf, once again marvelling at his markings.

‘Don’t bet your life on that. But I wouldn’t send him alone.’ He looked at Jowan. ‘If you use your own force only, you can’t do it, can you?’ The other man shook his head. ‘Thought so. If Solas is willing to do this with you, and perhaps Lenkala, too, would that be enough? Not a sacrifice, obviously, just a small donation from them?’

‘That … might be enough. They adding their magic and blood.’ He stood and turned away from them. ‘I don’t want to do this. I really don’t. Can’t you find a few mages and let them pool their mana?’ Dorian shrugged.

‘We could try. But that would take time. Time we don’t have.’

‘He’s right,’ Lenkala said. ‘Either this way or not at all. I’ll understand if you refuse. I’d do it, if I could.’ She had let Dorian instruct her in his own brand of magic, and that was controversial, too. What was one more controversial spell? ‘My greatest problem is that I don’t want you to risk your life, Dorian. As you said, this part of the Fade isn’t a stroll through a sunlit forest.’

‘Show me a part that is for anyone except Solas. Anyway, I’m way too intrigued to be cowed. And I’m at least sure that my magic can alert Solas if I get in trouble.’

‘You taught me some of it, I can do it, too.’

‘You’re too new to this. Look. You’re the one person we can’t lose. You know that, too.’

‘Then I’ll let someone else decide.’ Lenkala looked at Fenris who had sat silently but with an expression that spoke volumes. ‘Would you agree to this? Would Hawke?’

‘Those are two questions. They don’t have the same answer.’

‘I’m not a very patient woman, Fenris. Be plain.’ He looked at her then, his face controlled, but Dorian could see the battle of emotions behind those eyes. The man was ripping himself apart on the inside.

‘Hawke … would not balk. I know that.’

Dorian decided to rescue him. ‘Lenka, see it this way. Imagine someone once tied you down and burnt every hair on your body, blackening enough of your skin to almost kill you. How would you feel about someone approaching with a torch, telling you they’ll make you feel warm?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s your choice, Fenris. I’ll help, if you want that.’

‘I can do this myself.’

‘Sorry. No. You can’t. You may not even be able to get to the Fade, we’ll see that when it happens. Then those mages would have wasted their spell and need time to recuperate. If I come with you, worst case is I’m in the Fade alone. What is certain, however, is that I’ve been there, even if that was only once. I know enough to help us find some information if there is any to be found and remain safe until the spell pulls us back; or even to tell Solas I’m done and he can bring me back.’

‘I can speak for myself. And I won’t go anywhere with you.’

‘Well, then don’t,’ Jowan said at last. ‘Look, I’m not sending you alone. You go with Dorian, or not at all.’

Fenris’s gaze snapped to Jowan, and the last bit of strength bled out of him. ‘All right. So be it.’

‘We need time to prepare. Solas and I will have to figure out how long you can or should be gone, and those of us who cast need to be well rested. You should be, too.’

Lenkala nodded. ‘True. Fenris, don’t expect too much. What we found there was … not pleasant. I doubt that Hawke is alive. All I want is proof either way, but don’t get your hopes up.’

‘I had little hope when I came. I have none now. You have my thanks for trying.’

Lenkala’s expression changed. Dorian knew her well enough by now to know that she felt for him. He looked entirely defeated. If Dorian hadn’t seen him earlier, he’d never have believed this man had it in him to harm anything. His must have searched for Hawke so doggedly that the prospect of everything being futile left him with nothing. Drained. ‘This isn’t over yet,’ Lenkala tried. ‘Just …’

Fenris stood and she fell silent. ‘I understand.’

Dorian looked at the retreating figure. ‘You know,’ he said quietly, ‘I don’t like this. I don’t like his slouch, I don’t like that look in his eyes, I don’t like his markings, I don’t like anything about him.’

‘As far as I can tell, the feeling is mutual,’ Lenkala said calmly.

‘I don’t mean it like that. I mean, sure, I won’t bawl my eyes out when he leaves, given that he actively hates me – even though I get why he does. But what I mean is that I think he might choose to do something very irreversible if this goes wrong.’

‘That Tevene for someone being suicidal?’

‘Perhaps. I don’t know, maybe I’m reading too much into it. But if this doesn’t work, and I have as little hope as you do, we’d better keep an eye on him.’ He sighed. ‘He said he talked to Cole. I’m afraid, for once, our friend has done more harm than good.’

_  
_


	5. Wayfaring Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((So I thought I had an error in reasoning in the previous chapter, but research brought me to the conclusion that isn’t the case. I’d be grateful for input.  
> In DA:O only a mage can go to the Fade to rescue Connor. I took that to mean that Jowan or the Circle mages can’t send a non-mage there. The sloth demon in the Tower could – but he sent you to sleep before.  
> In DA:II you go to the Fade with a bunch of non-mages, being sent there by the Keeper. Or at least, that’s how I remember it, and that made me somewhat uncertain. Now it’s equally possible that being a Keeper she did something a Circle mage wouldn’t know (and a younger Dalish mage might not know), or that I have forgotten something. Either way, I’ll let this stand as it is.  
> Chapter heading is a gospel song I had the pleasure to sing a while ago.))

The smell of the steak and ale pie was delicious. Rhys had barely managed to crack the surface when a hand on his shoulder shook him roughly, accompanied by a hiss in his ear. He groaned.

The pie was replaced with snow and nagging hunger. ‘Rhys … There’s more of them here.’

He was instantly alert, all thoughts of a complaint gone. He looked into Evangeline’s pale face and scrambled out of his bedroll and their tent, luckily hidden close to the crags. Except he had no idea what powers of detection these monsters had. ‘Can we get past them unseen?’

Rhys snorted. ‘Can you become invisible? Oh, Cole, I need you.’

‘Cole?’ Evangeline asked.

‘A friend.’ Only a short while ago he had told her about him – again. She had remembered for a few hours, had suggested they seek him out, and Rhys had agreed, albeit grudgingly. Now, he had slipped from her mind again, forgotten as he always was. ‘We came here for him. Perhaps he can help you with the lyrium.’

‘Oh. How?’

‘No idea. But I can’t think of anyone else. Maybe he can make you forget that you need it. I don’t know.’

A hand closed around Rhys’s arm. ‘Look!’

Alarmed, Rhys stared in the direction Evangeline indicated. One of the red templars was coming towards them. Rhys prepared a spell, very aware of how inadequate anything he cast would be. He’d fought them, but never alone. ‘Stay back,’ he said when Evangeline drew her sword. ‘If this goes sour, make a break for Skyhold.’

‘You think I’m leaving you here?’ the templar asked. ‘Think again.’

‘Please!’ They just looked at each other. She couldn’t leave him to his fate any more than he could her. ‘Right. We’ll manage.’

The red templar was almost there, Evangeline’s feet planted firmly on the ground, and Rhys’s spell ready. He cast, and the thing froze solid. Evangeline’s shield slammed into it at once, shattering it to a million pieces. But there were two more.

Rhys had seen one monstrosity of a templar take down twelve men. The good thing was, these were still relatively human. ‘Angie.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’ll stop them. You run when I say the word.’

‘Rhys …’

‘Listen. I’ll be right with you.’

‘Don’t you dare die.’

‘Not planning on it. We approach. You scream and run up the path when I say so. Appear to lose it.’ She shot him a doubtful glance but nodded. Sword and shield firmly in her hands, she walked before him. The templars were at the side of the path rather than on it. That made it easier. Rhys’s spell was ready.

‘Run,’ he whispered. Evangeline screamed and started running while Rhys stood still, waiting where they would go. They went for Evangeline.

Rhys’s staff glowed, the ground flared, and both templars were caught in the glyph, unable to move on. Without looking back, Rhys ran after Evangeline. Just a little further there was a short tunnel. They burst through it and Rhys halted, spinning. The templars were closing, but he had bought them enough time. Shutting his eyes, he focussed inwards and then _pushed_. A low rumble went through the stone and he and Evangeline backed up the path. Before the templars were at them, the arch of rock above them gave and collapsed. ‘Shame,’ he said when all was silent. ‘A little later and they’d be under it rather than behind it.’

‘How long before they get past it?’

Rhys eyed the pile of rubble. ‘Past that? Longer than it takes us to go to Skyhold.’ He sighed. ‘We’ve left everything in the camp.’

‘Better our things than us.’

Rhys allowed himself a moment to smile at the woman. He reached out and cupped her cheek. ‘True. Come on, love.’

Ϡ

They reached Skyhold within the day. The guards at the gate asked for their names and let them enter without further investigation. Somehow Rhys had expected tighter security, but the surprise was a pleasant one. Probably the Inquisition had enough spies to know if someone was a threat long before they arrived.

The next part was potentially more difficult. From what Rhys had gathered, the Inquisitor had been looking for him and Evangeline. That they had been found was not random. The representatives they’d run into had known exactly who and what they were. Now the only explanation for all he had been told was Cole. So he supposed Cole was somewhere here. Or at least, he had been. Only finding the young man against his will was close to impossible. If he had left or if the Inquisitor, like most people, simply didn’t remember him, Rhys would likely never get anywhere near him. There was also a chance that Cole was unwilling to see him.

He didn’t need to worry. Past the gates, Rhys looked left and found a row of tents that must be an infirmary. Next to them, frozen in mid-step, stood Cole. The way he was half obscured by one of the tents he looked as if he had just jumped down the wall behind him. Knowing him, that might very well be the case.

‘Cole,’ Rhys whispered. Cole flinched. Rhys covered the distance between them and grabbed the young man by the shoulders. ‘You … you … Maker’s breath.’ He embraced him then, glad to have found him, glad the spirit allowed him to see him, glad that he could finally tell his friend that he still cared about him and had, in fact, never stopped.

‘It’s all right,’ Cole said. ‘I understand.’

Rhys pulled away with a strangled laugh and looked at the dark-ringed blue eyes. ‘Cole, I’m so glad you’re here. We need you. Angie … this is Cole.’

‘Yes, I gathered that.’

‘You’ll remember me now,’ Cole said. ‘I am more real than I was.’ Evangeline smiled at him, and Cole mirrored her expression, the worry slowly leaving him. He stood before her, took her in with that unwavering glance that could unnerve someone who wasn’t used to it. ‘You need to talk to Cullen.’ Rhys and Evangeline exchanged a glance. ‘He feels it, too. The beckon. Loud, screaming and tearing his mind.’

‘A templar. Addicted to lyrium.’

‘He’s fighting. He is very brave.’

Evangeline took a step closer, bringing her within an arm’s reach. ‘Did he stop? How is he?’

‘You need more help. But you also need Cullen.’

‘Nothing to hide from you, huh?’ Rhys asked. ‘Could you bring us to the Inquisitor, do you think?’

For a moment, Cole was hesitant. ‘I could,’ he said then. ‘But she is preparing a spell now.’

‘Can you get us something to eat, in the meantime? At least for Angie.’ Rhys bit his lip. ‘I’m afraid I can’t pay. We were attacked and had to leave everything behind.’

Cole grabbed them both by the wrists and dragged them towards a set of stairs. ‘Come. I’ll bring you to the tavern. There’s food, more than you can eat.’

Ϡ

Núria was used to walking, but when they reached Skyhold, she was bone-weary. They had rested only as much as was entirely necessary, and the path up the Frostback Mountains was exhausting. The Calling, even though it had ceased, had drained her for too long, and her desperate hunt for her lover hadn’t helped. Now, all was better. The breach in the sky was closed, but there were still demons and tears in the veil. What was more, Núria still had no answer to the question what had caused the false Calling. Because it was definitely false.

The Old Gods were gone. The cost for that certainty had been the life of her friend Morrigan, and Núria refused to believe that her sacrifice was in vain. Whatever had done this to her and her fellow wardens must be something terrible and powerful, but it was not an Archdemon. The fact that as abruptly as it had started the voice in her head had ceased supported her assumption further.

Now they were in, and the guards had directed them to the tavern. ‘You have no idea how much I need something to drink.’

‘Other than snow, you mean?’ Zevran asked, his arm around her and a smirk on his face. Maker preserve the man and his undying humour.

‘Other than snow. And then there’s the fact that no-one’s going crystalline on us here.’

‘Oh, yes, a definite improvement. But you’ve got to hand it to them, they cleared the path for us. That was nice of them.’

‘Very. And it was also nice of them not to notice you.’ They had now reached the upper landing of the stairs and saw a training ground. ‘I wish I could work with a bow.’

Zevran threw his head back and laughed. ‘If Leliana couldn’t teach you, no-one can. You did a nice job throwing that knife, though. Imagine we’d have had to fight them in an honest battle.’

‘Zev, you’re the one who taught me to fight warriors.’

‘Yes. But those were not human. Or darkspawn, for that matter. I’m telling you, if they hadn’t been so focussed on getting up the path, we’d be dead now.’

She nodded and pointed ahead. ‘I think that’s the inn right there. And you’re right. You know that Leliana will ask us to help.’

Zevran smirked. ‘And you won’t say no.’ He stopped just short of the tavern, and when he spoke, he was serious for once. ‘Núria, remember this. This isn’t your fight. You help if you want, but you’re not the one bearing the albatross.’

‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

‘I’ll remind you. Mostly, we want to find out what happened to our friends. And for that, Leliana is our best shot.’ He opened the door and made an inviting gesture. ‘After you, _amora_.’

Ϡ

‘I know you’re in there, broody. Open the door.’ Varric allowed Fenris a moment’s respite before he continued. ‘That lock won’t stop me, you know.’

The door opened. Fenris was doing his best to look angry. Varric wasn’t impressed by the glare or the barked reply of, ‘What, dwarf?’

‘I thought you might like to have a drink. I know how to get them to give you the good stuff, too.’

‘Tempting, but I need my wits about me.’

‘Have it your way. Look. You stroll right past me into Solas’s room, stroll back out looking like a beaten puppy. Again, ignoring me. Now I know I’m hardly the centre of your world, but I thought you’d at least care to tell me how you’ve been. Or say, “Hello, Varric, nice to meet you,” at any one point.’

‘I need a drink for that conversation.’ Varric grinned and led the way down. ‘What is that woman doing here?’

Varric looked at the two elves at the table Fenris was ogling. They were deep in conversation. ‘Never saw her. You know, there’s so many people round here, I don’t know everyone. I’m working on it, though.’

‘She’s the Hero of Ferelden.’

Varric made a gesture to the innkeep and stared. ‘Really? I thought she’d be more impressive.’

‘You’ve clearly never met her or you wouldn’t say that. She and that man with her took me captive. They held me in Vigil’s Keep. I looked for Hawke there, first. If I hadn’t let them take me …’

‘Fenris, I’ll be blunt. I don’t like what you’re planning. I listened, you see. I lost a friend when Hawke got trapped in the Fade. I’d rather not lose another one.’ He frowned. ‘I never thought you’d stay together forever anyway. Everything was a battle between you two. Always.’

Fenris nodded slowly. The innkeep placed wine before him and ale before Varric. Fenris held the glass to his nose, sniffed, and raised an eyebrow. Varric chuckled. ‘Impressed, are you?’

‘I must admit that I am.’ He took a careful sip and nodded. ‘Indeed. Varric, I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘Thought you might say that. Look. I don’t get why you want to risk your neck for a man who rubbed you the wrong way from the word go. Help me understand that.’

‘He would have done the same for me.’

‘Undoubtedly. It would have been the perfect adventure for him.’ Varric rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m not saying he didn’t care about you, because I know he did. All I mean is that you were more attached to him than the other way round. You knew that all the time. You even told me so once. You may not remember that, you were a bit drunk.’

‘I remember quite well.’ Fenris eyed the people in the room, all strangers, all unknown quantities. His expression changed, anger suffusing him visibly. ‘You see, I drove him off. Hawke cheated, I believe. I called him on it, he walked away. Next I know he’s being hunted. I chase after him to warn him. I get caught by the Warden. Then I come here and am told he is dead.’

‘Oh, Maker. Fenris, this isn’t your fault.’

The elf banged his hands on the table with so much vehemence Varric was half surprised the thing survived it. All eyes turned to them, including those of the Grey Warden and Cole, the latter in company Varric didn’t know. ‘I don’t want you to …’

‘Fenris, shut up.’ Varric’s voice was low, his eternal patience probably unnerving the elf even more. ‘Once in your life, just listen. I know you don’t want to hear this, but it seems you need it. You’re destroying yourself. Going to the Fade with the aid of blood magic? Really, Fenris? You of all people?’

‘I … have little choice.’

Varric sighed. ‘I’m not trying to tell you what to do. All I ask is that after this, you let the man rest. I remember how you said it wouldn’t be forever when we were still in Kirkwall. Please don’t let this break you. Hawke wouldn’t want that. He tried to open your mind and failed badly. What he didn’t want you to do was toss all your principles out of the window and turn into someone you can’t face in the mirror. He’d be the first in line to tell you no.’

‘I know.’ They glanced at the Warden and her companion. Both were still staring at them as if expecting Fenris to slaughter everyone in the building. A rather horrible leer formed on Fenris’s face and he raised his glass to toast the Warden across the room. ‘I’ll leave as soon as this is done,’ he said then.

‘Oh? To do what?’ Varric leaned forwards and lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘I’ll give you something to think about: Stay and help the Inquisition. If not them, me. I know I need someone, and you’re perfect. No, don’t answer right now. Just think about it and tell me when you’re done with the Fade business. Deal?’

During Varric’s speech, Fenris’s vile grin had turned into the half smile the elf spared for special occasions. ‘Deal.’

_  
_


	6. A World Beyond Your Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I’ve heard that whatever is behind an eluvian is hazardous for a non-elf. I ignore that because it’s book lore, and I haven’t read the books (aside from Asunder). Also, a non-elf inquisitor isn’t overly troubled by it, either. Now that might be the mark, but it might also be because the books aren’t considered canon.  
> To my shame, I haven’t (yet) played Witch Hunt [no longer true]. I read the summary after writing this chapter and had to smile. I thought it a bit weird that Jowan would know anything about eluvian at all, but it seems it actually works out. [Yes.]  
> Chapter heading is a line out of Sleepwalker’s Dream by Delain.))

Lenkala felt uneasy. She had never been afraid of blood magic. As a Dalish, she had grown up knowing the risks and that sometimes they were worth taking; that sometimes, it took more than mana. But this felt wrong on every level.

Solas passed her the knife he had used to cut his palms open, and she mirrored him. Jowan had been first. Dorian looked up at them all with fascination, Fenris with thinly veiled hostility. Somehow it seemed hazardous to send them into the Fade together. She feared for Dorian’s life, feared that the elf would destroy him in a fit of rage. That Varric had taken her aside and claimed he was quite nice, really, had only helped a little. Cole’s gentle words about the stranger had set her mind at ease enough to let Jowan do his spell at all rather than insist he send Dorian alone and claim it hadn’t worked.

That part was also not clear. She had visited Dorian and tried to find out more about the markings and what they did. The truth was that the Tevinter mage had little more knowledge. He was fascinated and disgusted in equal measures, tried not to stare, and failed.

‘Now, close the circle.’ Jowan reached out and they clasped hands, their blood mingling.

The two men sitting cross-legged in their centre, leaning against her and Jowan’s legs, exchanged a glance. ‘Safe travels,’ Dorian said jovially, earning a glare.

‘I will start now. If you fear I take too much from you, pull away.’ Jowan had barely stopped talking when Lenkala felt the pull on her strength. It wasn’t quite like casting herself, nothing she could control. Panic threatened take her, but she controlled it quickly. Focussing on herself, she hardly heard Jowan’s muttering. The power of the spell made her wonder if she _could_ pull away if she had to or if the grasp of magic would drain the life out of her.

Fenris glowed like he had before attacking the guard, then all was quiet. The pull on Lenka ceased and she let go of Solas and Jowan’s hands to lower Fenris on ground while Jowan did the same with Dorian. ‘Now what?’

‘Now we leave Solas alone,’ Jowan said simply. ‘He will pull them both back.’ He lowered his voice. ‘There’s something I wanted to tell you, anyway. Please come with me.’

Closing the door behind them gently, they stepped into the throne room. Lenkala told a guard to make sure Solas wasn’t disturbed before she followed Jowan to the herb garden and from there to a small room at its side. When he opened the door, she found it bare but for a large mirror at the far wall. ‘What on earth …’ She approached slowly, took in the ornaments of the frame and spun to face Jowan. ‘This thing is Dalish.’

He approached with a reverent look. ‘Yes. This is old magic. It is called an eluvian. They are used to communicate. And to travel.’ He ran a hand over the surface, which rippled under his touch. ‘You walked in the Fade, not as a spirit, not in a dream, but as you are here. Physical. An eluvian might accomplish the same.’

‘Wait. You’ve lost me. Can I touch it?’

Jowan smiled. ‘Yes.’ The frame felt normal, the surface reacted to Lenkala’s touch as it had to Jowan’s. ‘How do you find such a thing? How would you know to look for it in the first place?’

‘On my escape from the circle I stumbled upon an old Tevinter statue. It talked to me. And no, I’m not crazy.’ His voice was lower when he continued, the fascination visible in his face. ‘I never forgot it. While I was Tranquil, no-one stopped me from doing research that might have drawn attention before. That’s the one thing that was still human about me. I did research. Deep research beyond what I was told. And I remember everything I learned.’

‘As a Tranquil you learned forbidden knowledge?’

‘Oh, it’s not forbidden. It’s just … no-one really understands it. Or tries to, even. You see, this kind of magic will frighten the Templars. As a Tranquil, I would never have dreamed of using such a thing. It was all academic.’

‘And now?’

Jowan’s eyes were alight with excitement. ‘Do you want to see?’

Lenkala knew she should say no. She should kick Jowan and his mirror out of Skyhold. But this thing was Dalish, part of her own history, her own magic. So she nodded. Jowan placed his palm against the mirror and cast … something. The surface bulged outwards, swallowing them both.

For a moment, Lenkala thought she was in the Fade. But that wasn’t the case. The place was vast and foreign, dark, unclear. ‘Where are we?’ She turned slowly, looked at the odd structures and more mirrors, most of them pitch black, some of them emitting a sick, green glow. Only a few seemed like the one behind them: the surface shifting in colour, but without that vile look about it.

‘Beyond,’ Jowan’s voice tore Lenkala out of her reverie. ‘From here, you can reach all the places where an active eluvian remains. I am very certain that there is also a way to reach the Fade.’

‘In physical form. As the magisters did.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Yes.’ He made a gesture that encompassed their surroundings. ‘Imagine Corypheus came here. Imagine he managed to do what he wants: enter the Fade in the flesh.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘Yes. Oh no.’ His brows furrowed slightly, giving him a rather lost expression. ‘There is an eluvian, I believe, deep in the Arbor Wilds in the Temple of Mythal. If Corypheus lays hands on it, Maker preserve us all.’

‘We have to beat him to it then.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Yes. I would like to mark the place at your war table. We need to be prepared for a fight once we go there.’

‘If you’d said that sooner, I’d have stopped these antics going on in Solas’s room.’

‘That makes no difference, Inquisitor. We cannot move at once anyway, but we should make haste.’ He smiled. ‘Do not fear the unknown. Fear our enemy. This is not evil. Just old.’

Lenkala forced herself to look at the man. Really look at him. At his temples, there was some grey mixing into the black of his hair, he had a shadow of a beard, the beginnings of crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes. There was an eagerness in his eyes that was so typical for a mage who hadn’t let the Chantry quench his spirit. ‘I don’t fear this,’ she told him. ‘I fear what happens if we are too late.’

‘Then let us be sure that we aren’t. To reach the Fade from here, Corypheus needs to tear down the barrier between this place and the realm of spirits. It would destroy everything. Our own world, and this as well. All the beauty of it, lost forever.’

‘Jowan … the other mirrors. What’s wrong with them?’

‘They’re closed. Many are tainted, too. To touch them would mean infection.’ He ambled over to one of the blackened ones, touched it, and sighed. ‘To reactivate these, you need a key. Perhaps given time I could make some of them useable. I wonder where they would lead. Old elven ruins, lost in some secret forest no-one sets foot in, mostly. But who knows? How can you ever know if you don’t see it?’

‘What sort of key would you need?’

Jowan shrugged. ‘A word, a gesture. A thought. A certain artefact. It depends, every eluvian is different.’ He pointed to one of the green mirrors. ‘This one is tainted. Don’t go near it. If you ever stumble upon an eluvian in the real world, stay away. You wouldn’t notice it’s harmful until it is too late.’

‘Can you tell before you touch it?’

‘I’m a Grey Warden. I sense the taint.’  The apostate led the way back, and Lenkala found herself abruptly in the small room again.

A child was there, and for a moment she thought something had come with them. ‘Is that yours?’ the girl asked, looking at Jowan. She reached out, and Lenkala saw the surface reaching out towards her.

The apostate quickly grabbed her and pulled her away. ‘Don’t! Not without me.’ For a moment, she had been startled at Jowan’s sudden shout, but it passed quickly. ‘Inquisitor, I don’t think you’ve met Darya yet.’

She smiled at the young girl. ‘I’m Lenka,’ she said.

‘Lenkala Lavellan, a Dalish mage.’

Lenkala raised an eyebrow. ‘Indeed.’

‘I didn’t want to scare you, Daddy.’

Jowan stroked Darya’s head. ‘I know, love. I’m sorry I snapped at you, okay?’ She nodded. ‘It shouldn’t have reacted to you, as far as I know. I’ll need to look into this.’ He stared at the mirror as if he suddenly feared it might bite. ‘Maker knows what would have happened if you’d gone through alone and I hadn’t been there to follow you.’ He smiled at Darya. ‘Would like to help me find out what just happened?’

‘Is that wise?’ Lenkala asked before she could stop herself.

‘Wiser than making it more interesting by chasing her away,’ Jowan replied. ‘There’s nothing more dangerous than secrets. I know that for certain, if nothing else.’

Ϡ

Lenkala had barely stepped back inside the main building of the keep when she was ambushed by Josephine. ‘Inquisitor, there are four new arrivals that seek an audience.’

‘Oh, really. My quarters. All of them together, I don’t have much time right now.’

‘Very well.’

‘Incidentally, who are they?’

Josephine smiled. ‘I thought you weren’t going to ask. The Hero of Ferelden with Zevran Arainai, and the pair Leliana looked for a while ago. Rhys and Evangeline.’

Lenkala blinked at her ambassador. ‘Are you sure?’ The Antivan tutted as if the question was outrageous. ‘All right. In that case, find Cole.’

‘He was with them since their arrival. Should I … delay them, give you a moment to rest?’

Sweet as the thought was, Lenkala had to refuse. ‘No. I need to get back to Solas when he’s done with his … whatever he’s doing. I need to see that Dorian’s all right.’

‘Understood.’

 

 


	7. Hüter, ist die Nacht bald hin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter heading is taken from my choir’s current project, Mendelssohn’s Lobgesang. I’ll probably be quoting more of that. Translation is, ‘Watchman, will the night soon pass?’  
> There’s also a couple of lines from the ASP song Denn ich bin der Meister in there, albeit translated.))

‘Oh this is one _ugly_ part of the Fade. I wonder if even Solas would like it.’ Dorian turned slowly in a full circle and shook his head. ‘If I’d been asked to pick a place for a visitor, this would not have been it. Shame.’

‘You talk excessively, mage.’

Dorian tutted at Fenris. ‘And I’ll talk more, believe it or not.’ He folded his arms. ‘Before we start frolicking around in the Fade, you need to understand a few things about it. First …’

‘I’ve been in the Fade before. Spare me the lecture.’

Dorian heard the threat in the deep voice, but he refused to be intimidated. ‘You were? Now that’s a story I’d like to hear.’

‘You won’t. Only that you wouldn’t be the first to end up under attack.’

Dorian shrugged. ‘Still. How would you even orient yourself?’

Fenris looked around and pointed. ‘The Black City. It is visible at every point of the Fade, or so they say. And there are other things. Landmarks, paths.’

‘Hawke told you that, I assume.’

Fenris’s glare was rather impressive, really. ‘I read it.’

Dorian snorted. He didn’t intend to, but he couldn’t avoid it either. ‘You read it. Yes. Of course.’ The elf glowed, and Dorian decided to use at least a modicum of caution. ‘I … that was excessive. Who taught you? Hawke?’

‘Varric. Hawke offered, but I wouldn’t let another pretentious mage get a laugh out of me.’

Dorian narrowed his eyes. ‘Remind me why we’re looking for him again.’ Fenris’s lips tightened. ‘Every word you say sounds as if you despise the man. Why do this?’

‘I … do not despise him.’

Dorian shrugged, spun again, and sighed. ‘Well. I still don’t fancy running off into the blue. I’d rather call. Hawke!’ Fenris stared at Dorian as if he’d burst into dance. ‘What? This is the Fade. There’s no such thing as real distance.’

‘No-one expects him to be alive. There’s no point in calling.’

‘Imagine how impressive this would have been if he had come.’

‘You’d have got along with Hawke quite well.’

Dorian made a face. ‘At the risk of this being the wrong thing to say, I didn’t. We didn’t talk too much, but when we did, we never agreed much. He was too … angry for my tastes. Too bitter. Kind of reminds me of someone. Hmm, who might that be?’ Dorian had started to walk along the path. It was winding and strange but rather linear. ‘On a different note, this part of the Fade is rather devoid of spirits.’

‘Maybe they just don’t want to be seen.’

‘Possible. I’ll tell you if I do sense anything. Trust me.’

‘I don’t.’

Dorian rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. We need to be alert. Fighting doesn’t usually help there. I suggest we both shut up.’

‘Your best idea so far.’

Smiling, Dorian allowed Fenris the last word. His attention was drawn to something farther along. He pointed wordlessly at the structure. ‘Lenka didn’t mention that. I do believe she would have.’ He kept walking, waiting for an answer. When none came, he halted and turned. ‘Fenris?’

‘This was Danarius’s mansion in Kirkwall.’

‘That … is not good.’

‘Why?’ Fenris still stood rooted to the spot, staring at what Dorian had pointed out to him. ‘It means Hawke may still live.’

Dorian had never been more certain that he didn’t. He could tell the elf now that this was why a non-mage had no business being in the Fade, that he was, in fact, only a random man who needed to be protected. Dorian also decided he would say none of these things. ‘Fenris …’

‘I … do not know what to make of this.’

‘Give me a moment, maybe we can ask. Shake me if something happens.’ Dorian closed his eyes, hoping the elf wouldn’t give him the slip and leave him vulnerable. While he couldn’t sense a spirit without consciously trying, that didn’t mean that none were there.

The kind of magic he needed wasn’t the loud and flashing kind, it was something much more primal – not so much a summoning as an attempt to chat, like raising your hand just above your head in a vast lecture room and waiting to be addressed. He’d done it the first time he’d been in the Fade, too. His knowledge of the particular brand of magic that could charm a spirit out of hiding had been more than limited then, but still, it had worked. It worked again.

The spirit was little more than a wisp, but not the malevolent kind. It would turn into an actual spirit if no-one consumed its power. Dorian had no intention to do anything of the sort.

‘What is that?’ Fenris asked. Dorian felt the grasp on his arm and opened his eyes. Again, he could tell Fenris that he didn’t need to be brought out of his concentration. Instead, he smiled.

‘Ah, that was the plan. Thank you.’ He faced the wisp that was hovering a few feet above the ground ‘Hello. Could you tell me if a human was here?’ The answer wasn’t verbal, and Fenris made a face at the weird musical humming. Dorian interpreted it as a yes. ‘Good. Where is he now?’ Another hum. Longer. ‘It says taken by the darkness. That … isn’t a good answer.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well … can we find what is left of him?’ The wisp flared and shot towards the building. ‘Yeah. That’s what I feared. The way I interpret this, Hawke was consumed by the demon. He could buy the rest of them time to flee and lost his life.’

‘I want proof, not noise from a demon.’

‘This wasn’t a demon any more than you’re darkspawn. It was a bit unclear, however. These things aren’t very precise when you question them. They don’t see the world as we do.’

‘I will investigate the mansion. If you’re too craven, stay.’

Dorian gave an exasperated sigh. ‘I’m just trying to keep us as safe as possible here. But we’ll go have a look all right. I doubt we’ll get a better answer, but we came for proof.’ He turned away from the structure to face his companion. ‘We need to be alert and prepared for anything. Demons are cunning, they get into your head. It can do it to me or to you. We cannot allow it.’

‘Leave him alone, magister.’ Hawke’s voice was as sharp as a whip.

Before Dorian had turned to face the man, a spell had formed in his mind already. The human had no way of being so close without either of them seeing him approach. This was absolutely wrong. ‘Stay back, Fenris.’

‘You don’t command him.’ The man looked like Hawke, that much was certain. He even had the red smear over his nose. He also had the leer. ‘He’d love to lay his hands on you, to use you as a guardian. To use you … otherwise.’

Dorian held his staff ready and faced Hawke, hoping that Fenris wouldn’t fall so easily. ‘It is a fear demon Lenka faced here. This is his doing.’

For a moment, Dorian thought Fenris hadn’t even heard him, then the warrior shook himself. ‘Hawke,’ he said roughly. ‘I will not let him. We have to return, we can deal with him then.’

‘And give him a chance to escape?’ Hawke – or whatever this thing was – walked past Dorian and reached out to cup Fenris’s cheek. ‘No. We need to kill him. Now. He will return you to Tevinter to face judgement or as his personal slave. I swore to protect you. No-one touches you.’

‘Fenris, I don’t want to take you anywhere except Skyhold, let alone as my or anyone’s slave,’ Dorian said sharply. ‘This is a fear demon. Do not listen.’

With a huge effort, Fenris pulled back from Hawke. ‘I … will not kill him. Not here.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Dorian,’ Hawke said abruptly. ‘I’m astounded how far you go to anger Tevinter. I’m impressed, really. That you would sacrifice your family …’

Without thinking about it, Dorian unleashed a bolt of lightning. Hawke was unimpressed. If he needed any proof that this was not, in fact, a human being, this was it. ‘Fenris, I will attempt something. I don’t know if it’ll work in the Fade, but it just might.’ He didn’t wait for an answer, he just cast. He was causing havoc among those little things that dwelt here. The kind that Solas might sense. A distress signal.

‘Sad how you condemn all your loved ones. Your father will be ousted from the magisterium if word gets out that you … fraternise with a slave.’

‘I do not fraternise.’ Dorian bit his tongue. He shouldn’t answer, shouldn’t let the thing get to him. His focus wavered, and he felt his nerves going. This wasn’t good, his spell had worked but it might not be enough. ‘Fenris, hold him.’

‘You do not command me. And how dare you try to turn me against Hawke?’

‘He’s possessed or gone,’ Dorian said, not really believing there was any point.

‘Or you are,’ Hawke said in a contemplative voice. ‘Who is to say you are not an abomination, have fallen victim to the temptation that’s festering in your country?’

‘Not every mage is an abomination, even in Tevinter.’

‘They all can become one,’ Fenris said.

This wasn’t going well at all. ‘Yes, I could become an abomination,’ he said, sounding warier than he liked. ‘And you could slaughter little children with that big sword of yours. Yet you don’t.’ Dorian cast again. A barrier spell, hoping it did him any good in the Fade.

 Hawke backed away from them, out of the range of Fenris’s sword. ‘He is mine. You hold no sway over him. He’ll destroy you. You will die here, and I will make sure you die in the real world as well. Mine is the word and the word is knowledge. Knowledge is power and power is rights that were wrested away.’

Fenris hadn’t heard that last. Perhaps the demon hadn’t even spoken except in Dorian’s head. ‘Old argument. Doesn’t get better with years,’ the elf said, his voice and posture threatening violence.

‘True. You’d rip their hearts out rather than hew them asunder.’ He wanted to protest, to yell at the demon that dying in the Fade would do nothing to him. But was that true? What could the lyrium markings do to Dorian when used in the Fade? He stared at the elf, at his aggressive stance. He made his decision quickly.

For the second time, he trapped Fenris in a cage of magic. For the second time, pure fury filled the elf and he tried to reach Dorian anyway. And Hawke watched. A tiny voice in Dorian’s head tried to tell him that this was not, in fact, Hawke. That likely, Hawke wasn’t even possessed but absorbed completely into the demon they had to face. None of that made it through into his conscious thoughts. He didn’t have much time, the spell would wear off, and then Fenris would kill him. Dorian prepared to beat him to the punch. It was either him or Fenris.

Ϡ

After greeting the new arrivals quickly, Lenkala found Solas still standing in the centre of the room, eyes closed in concentration and a pained expression on his face. ‘Solas.’ She spoke softly, mindful not to break his focus.

‘Something is not as it should be, I believe,’ the elven mage said, his lips barely moving. ‘There is a disruption, that might be Dorian’s doing. As if he is struggling.’

‘End this at once.’

Solas’s eyes opened. ‘I have tried to do so with their cooperation. But they do not heed me. If I force them out of the Fade, I could harm them.’

‘How badly and how permanently?’

‘Not permanently. They might have severe headaches for days, bad enough to incapacitate them.’

‘Then end it.’

Eyes closing again, Solas brought his hands to his chest slowly as if physically drawing something towards him. When his eyes opened again, the two figures on the ground jerked to sudden wakefulness.

Lenkala wanted to ask them if all was well, but she never got to do so. Fenris glowed and jumped to his feet, entering a fighting stance, and Dorian made a grab for his staff. They were so intent on fighting each other they wouldn’t hear Lenkala if she shouted, so she stepped between them, hoping the elf wouldn’t simply kill her for being in the way. ‘Get a grip, both of you!’

For a very long moment, the two men didn’t seem to even see her. Then, Dorian averted his eyes. Fenris still glared at the mage, but he, too, relaxed. ‘What happened?’ Lenkala asked. Neither man answered. ‘Dorian, speak.’

The Tevinter mage flinched. ‘Hawke is gone. He has been destroyed by the fear demon. Absorbed, really.’

‘Possessed by him, you mean?’ she asked.

Dorian shook his head. ‘No. I believe that the manifestation we saw that looked like Hawke was no real form, just a figment created by the demon.’

‘And why were you fighting?’

‘It took our existing prejudices and turned them into hatred.’ The mage swallowed and finally met her eyes again. ‘How did you not destroy each other?’

‘He didn’t try that with us. We all came trusting each other already, he’d have had a hard time. But he … got to us all. Are you both all right?’

Dorian nodded, but the elf shook his head. ‘No,’ he growled. ‘I am not.’ He made for the door, but Dorian stopped him with a hand on his arm. The other man tensed visibly.

‘For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for what happened to Hawke. And for … trying to kill you, too.’

Fenris opened the door that led to the throne room, but before he closed it behind him, he spoke again. ‘I was under the same influence. I … need to be alone.’

 

 

 


	8. Lasst uns ablegen die Werke der Finsternis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is Mendelssohn’s Lobgesang again, translated to, ‘Let us cast off the works of the darkness’.))

The knock on the door to Cullen’s room on the ramparts almost startled him. No-one ever knocked around here, people just came barging in. ‘Er … yes?’

The two people that entered would be the pair Josephine had told him about. ‘We … are Rhys and Evangeline,’ the man said. ‘We would ask for a moment of your time.’ He looked like someone who desperately wanted to be elsewhere. Cullen couldn’t blame him.

‘Come in and close the door please, it’s cold enough as is,’ he said. The pair stepped inside and exchanged a glance. ‘I’ve been told about you. What do you need?’

‘We can come back later!’ Evangeline said, but her expression suggested otherwise.

‘Later … I don’t know if there is a later.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Look, you’ve come here, so talk to me. I don’t have time to learn mind-reading.’

‘Cole sent us,’ Rhys said.

Cullen raised his eyebrows. ‘Cole.’ He frowned. ‘I’ll be blunt. In a few minutes I need to discuss my plans for moving our troops, including the Inquisitor, into the middle of nowhere. Ask what you need to ask, I’ll answer if I can, then I go and do my best to bring everyone back alive. Or leave, but don’t stand here, waiting for me to deduce what Cole, of all people, thinks I can do for you.’

Evangeline threw her arms in the air. ‘I am pregnant. And a templar. Do you know one of us that produced a living child? I know I don’t. Not a woman.’

Cullen’s eyes closed and he sat down. He knew he looked as drawn as he felt, and for once he didn’t care if he could hide it. ‘Maker’s breath,’ he said. ‘I see. I … well, all I can do for you is tell you that I … function. And that the side-effects of the withdrawal, in my case, don’t include cramping.’ He managed a smile. ‘That is what you wanted to know, right?’

The woman nodded, looking at least a little relieved. ‘Is there anyone we can turn to for help if we need it?’

‘Out of the top of my head, First Enchanter Vivienne. I’ll talk to her. She seems a little forbidding, but she’ll help you, I’m sure.’ He stood again and shrugged. ‘I ask you not to speak of my own … affliction to her, however. This is something I believed only the Inquisitor knows.’

‘I’m sure she didn’t tell anyone,’ Rhys said quickly. ‘Cole knows things.’

‘Yes. I’m trying not to worry about that. I really need to go now, but if … when I am back, we can talk. Also, there are a lot of people who will happily distract you. Mingle. Don’t seclude yourself. And just a recommendation … when it shows, when the withdrawal starts draining your strength, tell people why you aren’t your usual cheerful self. This isn’t an easy secret to keep, and you don’t have to. It’s not like it’s your fault.’

Ϡ

Dorian stared at the target. He ignored the biting cold of the wind that threatened to freeze his fingers. He ignored the other fighters. His entire world focussed on the enemy before him. He had the spell, was ready to cast any moment now. Something huge barrelled past him, and he released the energy, left hand closing to a fist and yanking down, right hand with palm in front shoving at thin air. The target froze solid, and less than a second later, The Iron Bull crashed into it, his weight and momentum enough to shatter it to a thousand pieces. Dorian cheered.

The qunari grinned at him and approached, brushing pieces of straw off himself. A few of the soldiers practicing near them looked slightly worried, and sometimes Dorian wondered if they still expected him to turn on them next. Or Bull, for that matter. ‘Cullen’s not going to like what we do to the targets,’ Bull said.

‘I think we can stop. This time we got it, don’t you think?’

‘Yes. The timing was good.’

‘It wasn’t just _good_ , Bull, it was perfect.’

‘Almost.’

‘Suck it up.’

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you?’

Dorian rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s go somewhere warmer. I’m frozen through. How does anyone survive here?’

‘Well, they aren’t as soft as you Vints. People come home here, they light their own fires. They don’t come home to find everything nice and cosy because their slaves have done all their work for them already.’

Dorian made a face. ‘Can we please not talk about this?’

Bull, for once, just nodded and headed towards the tavern. Dorian stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘Ah, and can we go somewhere else?’

Bull made a face. ‘Dorian, what’s going on with you? You’ve been weird all day. Cracked your head in the Fade or what?’

‘Not out here. Library. If you want to hear.’

‘Why the library? You always stay up there, getting even more bookish than you already are.’

‘It’s upstairs, Bull. It’s warm there. The higher up, the more warmth you get from below.’

‘Poser.’

‘Hater.’

‘Yeah. Well.’

Dorian grinned. ‘Bull, you’re impossible.’ By the time they reached the library, Dorian had decided not to ask the question he had almost asked. He would deal with this some other way.

‘So … what’s wrong with you? You’re not feeling right?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Right, be like that.’ Bull stood. ‘Because you don’t need anyone. A magister never needs anyone.’

‘I am not a magister!’ Dorian swallowed. He hadn’t intended to yell. ‘I … I don’t know … I’m sorry.’ He sat heavily on the chair in the corner he had secured for himself. ‘I think you should go.’

Bull sighed and walked away. Dorian buried his head in his hands and wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground. At a thud right in front of him, he looked again. Bull had snatched another chair from someone and placed it in front of Dorian. ‘So that’s out of your system. Good. I’ll ask again. What is wrong with you?’

‘You’re going on my nerves.’

‘I do my best, mage.’

Dorian swallowed. ‘Bull … why don’t you hate me? And I don’t mean why are you not refusing to work with me, but … why do you bother spending time with me outside the fighting and the training? I am everything your people despise.’

‘You may have missed that, but I am not part of that people anymore.’ The growl in his voice was there, but only slightly. It still rankled Bull to have been declared tal-vashoth, even if he preferred that to the death of his Chargers. Dorian just looked at him. This wasn’t an answer. ‘I can’t tell you. How should I? You seem fine, and unless you’re really good at acting, I’ve got no problem with you.’ He leaned forwards. ‘You’re here because you don’t get along with your people. Honest opinion? I don’t think you’ll ever go back. You keep saying it, but I doubt it. You don’t want to.’

‘I should. I should go and make things right. Stop these … these motherfuckers from producing people like Fenris!’ He balled a fist in helpless fury.

Bull blinked and burst into laughter. ‘I’m a bad influence on you, I’ll tell you that.’ He sobered. ‘This about the elf, then.’

‘I always thought it wasn’t so bad. I thought … I thought it’s a system. I told Lenka as much. That people sell themselves to the nobility to get out of the squalor they would have lived in otherwise. Better than the alienages of the south at any time.’ He rose and walked to the shelf he had claimed as his and produced a book. ‘This agrees with me. Adds that sure, there are those that were brought from abroad, elves mostly. Torn from their previous lives with no regard to their families. To be used for blood magic, in some cases. Sacrifices. And this,’ he tapped the book, ‘sanctions that as well. They were also taken from impoverished places, you see. You can’t go and steal a teyrn. So what’s the problem? Yeah, someone might miss them, but their lives weren’t that good to begin with. And the servants in Minrathous aren’t that bad off, are they?’ The mage’s voice was dripping disgust. ‘I never … I never thought about this! Lenka talked to me right after we met, and she called me on the sheer absurdity of the concept. I disagreed, I sulked, but I thought about it.

‘I wish I hadn’t because she’s right, Bull. This … this isn’t.’ He hurled the book away with such force it sailed clear over the fencing in the centre. ‘If you go and abolish the bad kind of slavery, though, the one with only the stolen slaves, send them back home, you’re left with very few. Meaning you’d cause the nobility, the magisters, to spell it out, to force more of our not-so-rich people into it. By goading them, threatening them, or by simply using blood magic to make them think it’s what they want. If you free them all – not that that will _ever_  happen – what then? They’d need somewhere to live, to begin with, and I can tell you no-one would care to help them for a second. Then we’d have slums, worse than here. There is no way out.

‘And do you know what’s worst? I know it’s wrong, and I can’t do anything. If I try, I’ll likely be murdered sooner or later and I don’t know if I am ready to risk that. I hate this. And all I can do is rant at you.’

Bull took a deep breath. ‘And you really asked me why I don’t hate you?’

Dorian shrugged and looked away, noticing Solas standing beside him.

‘Hello, Dorian. I assume this is yours.’ He offered the book Dorian had thrown, his expression dignified as always.

Dorian looked away. ‘Teach Cole to fold little animals out of paper with it, keep it, burn it, whatever.’ He stood abruptly. ‘I need air. More practice, Bull?’

‘Fickle mage. Sure you can take it?’

‘Suck it … Never mind.’

Ϡ

For once, Lenkala was alone at the war table, trying to work out a strategy. She would discuss it with the others, of course, but first, she needed to work out how she wanted this done.

Jowan had marked an old temple in the middle of nowhere, crumbling and forsaken. They were ready to move, Cullen’s people as well as Leliana’s, each with their own tasks. To determine these, was Lenkala’s job.

The truth was, she was stalling. This had to go right. They had to outrun and outwit an ancient darkspawn. And then … then they would have to deal with the Archdemon.

The path through the Arbor Wilds was winding and generally difficult to navigate. It seemed Jowan would know his way, so she had to take him with her. She certainly didn’t want to go into the temple with too many people. A handful would suffice. Jowan was a must.

The door was opened almost tentatively. By that alone she knew who it was and looked up with a smile. ‘Hello, Cole.’

‘I wanted to ask you something.’ He looked shy, not quite meeting her eyes. He was like that whenever he wanted something for himself.

Lenkala walked around the table to stand in front of him. ‘Ask away.’

‘I … don’t want to be left here. When you go to the temple.’

‘Oh, Cole, the one thing I can’t grant you,’ Lenkala said gently.

The young man looked utterly dejected. ‘I don’t need you to protect me. I am not a child!’

Shaking her head, Lenkala took his hands. ‘That’s not what I was thinking. And you know that.’ He met her eyes, a scowl on his face that had never been there before he had become more human. ‘I need you here. I am taking Jowan and perhaps Blackwall.’

‘Solas. Please. Take Solas. And me.’

‘I can’t take him, either.’ The truth was, Lenkala found that two mages were more than enough. ‘Look, it’s good that I catch you alone. I ask you to take care that Dorian and Fenris don’t get within ten feet of each other; or into the same room, really. And I ask you to report to Solas if either of them develops a headache. You’d sense that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes.’ Cole frowned. ‘But Solas said they’ll be all right. I asked. You need him, Lenka. You need me.’

The sheer urgency of the young man made her wonder. ‘Why?’

‘This place you’re going to … it’s old and elven. So you need Solas.’

Lenkala smiled at him. ‘And you? Why you, Cole?’

‘Because you trust me most.’ Despite herself, Lenkala laughed and brushed her thumb over the hand she still held.

‘You know me much too well. If you insist, I’ll take you with me. And Solas.’

Cole beamed at her. ‘Good. We won’t let you get hurt. Dorian and Fenris don’t need me, and they … they are both so afraid it is hard to be near them. They are both powerful. Why is there so much fear in them?’

Lenkala sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. Cole mirrored her. ‘I’m not certain,’ she said. ‘Fenris was a slave and ran away, I gather. He fears Dorian for what he represents. Tevinter, the magisterium … any of that.’

‘Dorian is an Altus.’

‘For now. And Dorian … fears Fenris on a different level.’

‘Like a mirror. With no mercy, showing every blemish, the whole truth, making it more prominent than it actually is.’

‘Yes. Like that.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘You know better than I do. Why ask?’

‘It is … sometimes difficult, and I am not always sure I’m right.’

‘Cole … did I do the wrong thing?’

The smile Lenkala received was as warm as the sun on a summer day. ‘No. This is better. Evangeline remembers me.’ The door opened again, with considerably more force, and revealed Lenkala’s advisors, including Jowan. ‘I’d better go. You know where I am.’

Ϡ

‘This is it,’ Lenkala said. What Blackwall referred to as her extended inner circle was gathered in the courtyard, waiting for her to give orders. ‘Cassandra and Vivienne, you help Cullen. Blackwall, I need you with me. I … what?’ A murmur had gone through the handful of people, and Lenkala turned. Someone drew closer in full armour with a sword and shield. Inside the armour was not a warrior but Jowan. ‘What?’ she asked again.

‘You need only me, aside from some fire power.’

‘I … what do you think you’re doing? How would you cast?’

The answer came from Solas. ‘Quite easily.’ The elf approached Jowan, his mouth slightly open. ‘How do you know such magic? It is not like Vivienne’s.’

‘This is … elven magic. You’re right.’

‘Are you able to control it?’

Jowan smiled. ‘I’ve been controlling it for quite a while now.’

Solas turned and looked at Lenkala. ‘You do not need Blackwall. Jowan can handle half an army if he know what he’s doing.’

Lenkala was only partly reluctant. Cullen needed good commanders, and it had been difficult to decide between Cassandra and Blackwall. ‘Very well. Blackwall, you also report to Cullen. Sera, you’re with Leliana’s people. Don’t get hurt.’

‘Nah.’

‘Bull, take care she doesn’t do anything reckless.’ Lenkala folded her arms and winked at Sera, who was sticking out her tongue. ‘Dorian, you stay here. I can’t take you. I’m sorry.’

‘Yes … I know. Potential debilitating migraines in the middle of a battle aren’t what you need.’

‘Varric … You stay here, too. While these red templar idiots piled rocks on the path, they managed to infect it. I want that red lyrium gone when we return.’

The dwarf grinned at her. ‘I’ll see to it.’

‘Solas, Cole … you’re with Jowan and me.’ Both nodded. ‘Well … Good luck. To all of you.’

 


	9. Lasst uns anlegen die Waffen des Lichts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I digress from the way this goes in canon a bit. One reason is that it’s a while ago I did this and I had a completely different group (aside from Cole). Now while I could try and get Solas’s dialogue either from my savegame by doing this again with him, or by writing it down off youtube, I believe that if you have Jowan instead of Morrigan, the entire thing will be different. I did listen to some scenes to get my data, but nothing is quoted directly. At least I made no effort to do so except for the last bit.  
> Chapter heading is basically the next line of the same piece in Mendelsohn’s Lobgesang, meaning, ‘Take up the armour of light’.))

‘I told you!’ Lenkala was staring the closed door, for once with fear in her eyes. ‘I said it couldn’t be and it wasn’t!’

‘Lenka … We’re all alive.’

‘Yes, Cole. We are.’ She tore her gaze away from the huge door. ‘I just hope they’ll be all right. There’s a freaking Archdemon loose out there.’

Jowan had moved ahead a few paces. ‘I’m worried, too, but we need to follow this woman. Corypheus is still there, and we still have to find … that Well of Sorrows, whatever it is, exactly.’

‘Yes. Let’s move on. There’s fighting ahead of us.’

‘Let me take a look,’ Cole said. ‘Stay back.’ Without waiting for her command, the young man slipped into the shadows and moved ahead. Lenkala could still see him. Unobtrusive and invisible weren’t the same thing. She just hoped he was aware of his being too human to completely vanish, but she would trust him on this.

They didn’t have to wait long. ‘They’re gone. There’s been a fight, they … uh.’

‘Sorted themselves out?’ she suggested.

Corypheus’s agents had apparently taken a direct path through the ground. There was also the way worshippers would take: pass certain rituals to open the way. Lenkala was torn. Cole had seen the guardians of the temple fight Corypheus’s bitch, but those that had been here lay dead. They could just run after their target and maybe die at their hands. Or they could try to outwit rather than outrun them. Unable to decide, she turned to Solas, just raised her hands in a shrug.

‘I do not recommend we follow the example set by Corypheus’s minion,’ the elf said.

Lenkala agreed. ‘The long way, then.’ She walked to the door on the left. There, they found a similar tiled path that had been outside. ‘More of that, it seems.’ She walked around the platform.

‘Wait here.’ Jowan had taken it all in with a frown, now he walked up the stairs. ‘I believe I know what to do.’ They watched the mage systematically activating the tiles. When he returned, he smiled. ‘Easy, really.’

‘Next one’s mine,’ Lenkala said. ‘Don’t you think you can have all the fun.’

‘Oh, sure, you go ahead.’

The next one, through a door to the right from where they had started, was simpler. ‘I want the last one, too, I think. This was hardly fair.’

Jowan chuckled. ‘All right.’

The last one was more complex than the previous two. The two mages exchanged a glance. ‘Together?’ Lenkala suggested.

‘How would you … Oh, I’ll wait over there … hang on.’ He clambered up to the portion dividing the two sets of tiles and ambled along. ‘Off with you!’

‘Between you two one would think this is a game,’ Solas commented.

Lenkala smiled at him. ‘Trust you to remind me it isn’t.’ She met Jowan at the division. ‘Don’t ruin my efforts, human.’

‘I’ll try not to trip over my own clumsy feet.’

Lenkala moved back to her companions while Jowan completed the ritual. When he re-joined them, he made a face. ‘Now let’s hope the door’s open. If not, I’m at a bit of a loss.’

‘We’ll find a way.’

‘There’s still the hole in the ground,’ Cole said. ‘But I don’t want to go that way.’

‘We all don’t, I should think,’ Lenkala replied. ‘And the door opens.’

The hall they stepped into was huge, larger than anything she had ever seen before. ‘This place is amazing,’ she muttered. Cole clutched her wrist and pointed. A lone figure was prowling on a balcony at the far end of the hall. ‘Oh.’ She heard something behind them but didn’t turn. ‘We’re being watched, I believe.’

‘Trespassers.’ The man on the balcony stopped. ‘But not like the others. You are one of the elvhen. So is the mark you bear.’ He paused and folded his arms, facing them. ‘Your arrival just after the other invaders is not a coincidence. What is your intention?’

‘To stop them,’ Lenkala said. ‘They cannot be allowed to get what they seek.’

The features of the elf on the balcony softened, if only a little. ‘I am called Abelas. We are the guardians of this temple. We awake only to defend it. With every invasion, our number is diminished; with every time we wake up, the world more foreign than before.’ He took up his pacing again, scowling at the ground before his feet as he did so. ‘I know what you seek. You and the invaders, and all those before either of you. You wish to drink of the Vir’abelasan.’

Lenkala shot Jowan a glance, but the mage merely shrugged. ‘He can only mean the Well of Sorrows.’ There it was again. Not an eluvian, but, as they had found out only on entering the temple, a well. But whatever it was, if Corypheus wanted it this badly, they had to do all they could to stop him from getting it.

‘The what?’ Lenkala asked out loud.

‘It is not for you. Only for those who toiled in Mythal’s favour.’

Lenkala turned. ‘Solas … would you?’

‘Would I do what? Tell this man to stop doing what has been his destiny for millennia?’

‘No … No, I suppose not … Abelas … We have passed this door. We have performed the rituals.’

‘True. You have honoured the sacred rites. You are permitted to follow the intruders and destroy them. But the Vir’abelasan is not yours to take. It must be destroyed.’

Solas took a step forwards so he was beside her. ‘Is that not what we have come for? We do not have to fight these sentinels.’

‘I know I don’t want to,’ Jowan said.

Lenkala smiled at Solas and his apparent discomfort at the mere thought. ‘Nor do I. Can you lead us to them, Abelas?’

‘One of my sentinels will. I shall see you there.’

Ϡ

There were bad things. There were really messed up things. And there was red lyrium.

Varric had intended to get rid of the stuff on his own, but apparently the local wildlife, such as it was, had decided to get infected and hang around near it. He’d need help. With so many gone, he wouldn’t call the remaining soldiers from their duties. Instead, he fetched a servant. ‘Do me a favour and pry Dorian out of whatever book he crawled into this time. Tell him I need him.’ The young elven girl looked horrified. ‘Oh, come on, he won’t bite you. Off you go.’ Shaking his head at the retreating kid, he walked into the tavern and upstairs. ‘Fenris! Fancy getting rid of some vile magic?’ he called. The elf appeared almost immediately. ‘Thought so. There’s things out there stopping me from removing the red lyrium on the path. Mind giving me a hand?’

‘With the things or the lyrium?’

‘Both. Actually, this is what I wanted to ask you. There’s more of that stuff around, and I want it gone. Lenka said I could take care of it, but this isn’t something the inquisition has time for.’

‘I’ll help you.’

‘You’re staying then?’

‘For now. Corypheus needs to be dealt with. What is _he_ doing here?’

Varric followed Fenris’s glare and found Dorian. He swatted at the elf. ‘Helping. I don’t like going out there without a mage, and at the moment, he’s the only one who’s available. Look, this’ll only take a minute.’

Dorian was waiting for them, leaning against the gate with his arms folded. ‘Oh?’

‘Don’t even start,’ Varric warned him.

‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘Try not to kill each other. I’d hate to have to explain that to Lenka.’

Fenris seemed to decide he could live with the situation Varric had put him into. The dwarf took that as a good sign. ‘Where did she get the nickname from?’ Fenris asked.

Varric grinned. ‘She didn’t like Sera’s. Lennie. So she said if she’s going to be nicknamed it will be Lenka.’

‘Lenkala Lavellan does have a stuttering sound to it, doesn’t it?’ Dorian offered. ‘Lenka is smoother.’

Varric pointed ahead of them. ‘Fenris, would you mind dealing with those leopards or whatever there?’

The warrior took off in their direction. Dorian closed his eyes and made a gesture. ‘Excessive,’ Fenris called back.

‘You’re welcome,’ Dorian answered, falling into step beside Varric to follow the elf. ‘I’d advise you to keep away from this stuff.’ He shot the offending protrusion of red lyrium a glare.

‘Watch him,’ Varric advised.

Dorian did, fascination clear of his face. There had only been three leopards that had apparently decided this was a good place to linger. Now there was one, Fenris making short work of them. ‘He’s good, isn’t he?’ The last animal came flying in their direction. Dorian ducked as the animal struck the red lyrium, smashing it in the process. A fragment collided with his shoulder, but since he could still curse, it didn’t seem too bad.

‘I’d agree, if I’d been able to keep track. All I can tell you is that he’s bloody _fast_.’ He looked at his shoulder, where the red lyrium had grazed him, the fabric of his robes slowly reddening. ‘Ow.’

‘You all right?’

‘Yes. I’m not that fragile. Now what?’

‘We clear this mess away.’

‘Away?’ Fenris made a wide gesture encompassing their surroundings. ‘Where would you have us all carry it?’

‘Not carry. We’ll throw it off the path. That’s quite a bit of a drop here, and there’s no vegetation down there.’

Dorian didn’t look convinced. ‘Yeah, well, it’ll grow again, won’t it? It would be a while before it’s a problem again, though. By then we may have a clue how to get rid of it for good. Or organise a way to transport it … elsewhere.’

‘Where d’you suggest?’ Varric asked, starting to roll a chunk towards the edge of the path.

‘Tevinter comes to mind, in case they don’t learn their lesson. They might even buy it. I’ll talk to Josephine, this might actually work. Idiots.’

‘That would be convenient. An army like that and no-one would threaten your magisters’ dominion ever again.’

Dorian scratched his head at Fenris’s remark. ‘I doubt the ever-again-part. More like a couple of weeks, until they die out because it kills them, leaving only those with a brain behind. Ah, Fenris, I’d really not touch the red lyrium if I were you.’

‘Why?’ The simple question sounded like a threat.

Dorian replied patiently enough. ‘Because the tainted lyrium might react with you. I’m not talking death, the magic of your markings would protect you from that, but I’m talking agony for at least a few days.’

‘And how would you know?’

‘Research. It’s what I do when I’m not busy conspiring or sacrificing slaves. Let’s get this over with, shall we?’

Ϡ

Lenkala generally considered herself patient, although the last few days had been trying. Now, Solas, Jowan, and Abelas were debating, however peacefully, over what was to happen with the Well of Sorrows while blood was still flowing from Calpernia’s corpse. At least the woman had had the courtesy to introduce herself before dying. Lenkala’s eyes were fixed on the eluvian that stood behind the pool of water, just a few steps away. ‘You know, I’d like a say, too,’ she said at last, receiving a slight smile from Solas. ‘Abelas … Jowan’s right, there will come more. And we need help, every little help we can get.’ Again, she looked to Solas.

This time, he didn’t refuse to speak. ‘There are other duties. More of the people.’

‘Like you?’

‘Yes,’ Solas said, and there was another minute smile on his face, ‘like me.’

Abelas looked at the three mages in turn. Then his lips tightened. ‘If you truly seek to use the wisdom of the Vir’abelasan to defeat Corypheus … it is yours.’ He started towards the exit.

‘Are you leaving the temple?’ Lenkala asked.

‘There is nothing left for us here.’

‘There is a place for you, _lethallin_. If you seek it.’

Abelas halted and turned back to nod at Solas. ‘Perhaps there are places the _shemlen_ have not touched. It may be that only _uthenra_ awaits us, the blissful sleep of eternity, never to awaken. If fate is kind.’

Lenkala made a step towards Abelas. ‘You could come with us, fight Corypheus. He killed your people.’

‘We killed ourselves. Long ago.’

‘ _Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas._ ’

Abelas offered Solas a curt nod and walked away. Lenkala, Jowan, and Cole stared at Solas. The mage spoke without another prompt. ‘His name, Abelas, means sorrow. I said I hoped he finds a new name.’

Lenkala smiled and squeezed Solas’s shoulder. ‘So. Here’s the well. Now one of us will have to do this.’

‘Not me.’ Solas had rarely sounded so sure of anything. ‘Nor should you.’

‘And why not?’

Jowan smiled. ‘Same reason we couldn’t send you to the Fade. We don’t know what will happen to you.’

Solas’s expression was hard to read. He fixed the Grey Warden for almost a minute as if trying to see his intentions. ‘Are you willing?’

Jowan stared at the water and swallowed. ‘I’ve swallowed worse stuff more or less willingly. I think I can handle water.’

‘You don’t have to,’ Lenkala offered.

He laughed. ‘Don’t I? There’s no alternative.’ He walked towards the pool and took a deep breath. ‘Well … Here goes nothing.’ He walked down, the water rippling around his legs. He turned and faced them, opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came. The mage curled in on himself until he was completely submerged.

‘He’ll drown!’ Lenkala said and started towards him, but Solas grabbed her arm to stop her.

‘No, he won’t. Watch.’                                                                           

Ceasing to struggle, she did. And then, the water was gone, and Jowan collapsed. The grip on her arm vanished and they all three started towards the mage. He opened his eyes, shook his head, and muttered incomprehensible words that might be ancient elvhen. He shook himself again. ‘All right …’ Solas helped him to his feet. ‘Oh, thanks … just a moment, my head’s spinning.’

‘Now what do we …’

‘Out.’ Cole’s voice was so shocked that Lenkala fell silent immediately and looked at the young man. ‘We must get out. Now. He’s coming.’ Black smoke was forming at their feet, but that wasn’t where he was looking. He stared towards where they’d come from, and suddenly, Lenkala didn’t need to see. Corypheus had followed them.

‘The eluvian!’ Jowan shouted. His voice was high with terror, but still he moved and steered Lenkala with him while activating it with a spell. ‘Thank the Maker it’s working.’ He attempted to shove her through, but she evaded him, waiting until all the others were gone. The moment she stepped inside, she thought the figure of a woman rose from the well. But that was impossible, of course. On the other side, Jowan deactivated his own eluvian. ‘Shortcut,’ he said. He made a face. ‘That’s what I get for complaining that life in the circle tower was boring. I should have kept my mouth shut.’

 

 


	10. Light In the Darkness

‘So you’re from Tevinter?’ Rhys’s curiosity was obvious, he knew.

Dorian didn’t seem to mind. ‘Yes.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I dare you ask me if I’m a blood mage.’

Rhys folded his arms. ‘You dare me? What will you do if I ask?’

‘Scowl at you, most likely. And that might cause me to get wrinkles, imagine that.’

‘I wouldn’t want to risk that. Now let me take a look at that wound. You got that … when?’

‘Four days ago.’ Dorian had finally decided that he needed help. He wasn’t much of a healer, and the head nurse in the infirmary wouldn’t be able to do more than he. He needed a mage.

‘Odd. How did you get that injury?’

‘I stood next to a piece of rock that was shattered. Idiotic, it’s what we went to do.’

‘Rock?’

‘Red lyrium.’

Rhys sighed. ‘All right. I’ll try a healing spell.’

Dorian shrugged and regretted the motion at once. Every movement of his shoulder sent a jolt of pain through his entire body. The spell whispered over him and did nothing. ‘Not good,’ Rhys commented. ‘When did the bleeding stop?’

‘After a couple of hours, perhaps, but it’s still not healing. Now don’t tell me I’ll run around with a hole in my shoulder for the rest of my life.’

‘I hope not. This is going to hurt.’

Dorian braced himself as Rhys held his arm in a firm grip and placed his palm on the wound. Again, he felt Rhys’s spell, but this time, it felt as if a thousand needles were digging into his flesh. He held his breath and managed not to make a sound.

‘Did you try the infirmary?’

‘Yes,’ Dorian grated. ‘They said there’s nothing in the wound so I should be fine.’

‘They were wrong. A small splinter is in there, but I can’t pull it out.’

For a few seconds, Dorian managed to ignore the impact of the other mage’s words. Then he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to scream or cry like a child. ‘You’re saying,’ he said hoarsely, ‘that this … this thing is stuck in me.’ He swallowed and opened his eyes, fixing them on Rhys. ‘Do you know what you are saying?’

‘I am sorry. I … truly am.’

‘Cut it out, then. Generously, if you must.’

Rhys shook his head. ‘I can’t. It’s lodged behind your shoulder. If I did that, the injury would kill you.’

‘Better than this. Do you even know what this will do to me?’

Rhys bit his bottom lip. ‘Trust me, I know.’

‘Then there’s only one thing I can do. Just … not yet. Perhaps I can say goodbye to Lenka.’

‘Dorian …’

He shook his head. ‘I won’t wait until I lose my mind and hurt my friends. I just want her to hear this from me. They should be back soon. If they’re still alive. I need to know that first.’ He stood abruptly, a flicker of hope igniting his eyes. ‘Lodged, you say? Well … Perhaps someone with mechanical skill can help more than a mage.’

Ϡ

Varric liked to think of himself as independent. He didn’t need anyone’s approval, didn’t care what others thought of him. And yet, Fenris was avoiding him, and it rankled the dwarf. Yes, he’d tricked him, but all he wanted was people to get along. He’d done the same with Dorian and The Iron Bull, and those two were thick as thieves now. Only Fenris wasn’t The Iron Bull. Nor was he Dorian, who, to be fair, had been more sceptical of the qunari than the other way round. Hard to believe though it was, the elf apparently had a thicker skull than the other two together.

At first, Varric had wanted to leave the stubborn man alone, let him come when he would. But Fenris was alone in a place full of strangers, and he liked the stupid bugger too much to ignore him for long. When Lenkala returned from her expedition, and that could be any time, Maker knew what she’d decide to do with Fenris. If Núria got any say, kick him out most likely. He hadn’t talked to the Warden, but he’d heard her talk about Fenris. Apparently he’d wreaked havoc in Vigil’s Keep.

With a curse, Varric left his spot in the great hall and marched over to the tavern. There, he found Fenris at a table with the templar Evangeline. Well, at least he wasn’t avoiding everyone. When she noticed Varric, she gave Fenris a lingering look before walking away. ‘What was that about?’ Varric asked.

‘She and her mage are in the room next to mine. She had a … fit of some sort when he was gone.’

Varric glanced after her. ‘Oh? Any idea why?’

‘Lyrium withdrawal. And she’s pregnant.’

‘Oh sweet Andraste. Poor soul.’

Fenris scowled at him. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m not going to apologise, Fenris. But I want you to know that I really didn’t do this to upset you.’

‘There is another mage here, and you knew that. You lied. There was no need to bring Pavus.’

‘Rhys was with Evangeline! And they’d only just arrived here, they were worn out. Did you look at them when they came here?’

Fenris made a face and looked away. Then he surged to his feet and stared down at Varric. For a moment the dwarf thought the elf would hit him. ‘You don’t know when to stop being broody, do you, Broody?’ Varric made a dismissive gesture and turned, finding Dorian approaching them. At least it explained Fenris’s sudden reaction.

The mage was pale and his face shining with sweat. It struck Varric then that he hadn’t seen him in days, either, but that wasn’t so unusual. Sometimes he dug himself into a project and only emerged a week later. Varric ignored Fenris and rushed towards the mage. ‘Dorian? What’s wrong with you?’

‘I need your help. And if you can’t help, I’ll die.’

Varric’s eyes went wide. ‘What … do you want me to do?’

‘I want you to take one of your tongs and pull a shard of red lyrium out of my shoulder.’ The words hit Varric with the force of a rock wraith. He sat heavily on the closest chair.

‘No. Tell me this is some sick sort of joke.’

The mage merely shook his head. ‘I wish it were.’

‘I … shouldn’t have dragged you into this. This is my fault.’

‘You didn’t force me to stand right next to that tusk of weirdness, Varric.’ Dorian was calm, so calm despite his visible fear.

Varric couldn’t help admiring him. ‘I’ll try. Come on upstairs. You’ll be all right.’ Just when he started to lead the way, a guard announced that Lenkala had arrived through the eluvian.

Dorian changed direction, heading for the door. ‘Let’s see her, I’ll tell her …’

Varric seized Dorian’s arm. ‘You’ll tell her nothing whatsoever, Sparkler. Upstairs. Now. Lenka can wait.’

Ϡ

It would be a while before the rest of their people would arrive from the Arbor Wilds. Lenkala was already making up her mind how and where to attack next to defeat Corypheus for good. Jowan had a different problem entirely. He had doubted that there was much behind the sentinels’ warnings, hadn’t given much thought to being subjected to the whims of a long-gone elven goddess. But now … now he heard her. Not too clearly, but there was a presence in his head.

Jowan had always been cautious. He had learned blood magic from Uldred rather than a demon, had never summoned one and wasn’t going to. He was a free man and intended to remain one. Now, he feared, that might no longer be the case.

Perhaps Solas could tell, perhaps even the strange young man named Cole. But what if this thing in his head wasn’t the benevolent Dalish goddess but a demon? No. No, he refused to believe that he was or would ever be an abomination.

Jowan decided that he needed air. He walked out on the ramparts and sat down on them, underneath him a sheer fall. Heights had never scared him. It would be so easy … If he truly was in the grasp of a demon, it seemed like a logical solution. But he needed to be certain before he threw his life away. ‘Not like this,’ he said into the silence. ‘Not now, not me.’ He closed his eyes and focussed on the voice in his head. Here, with no distractions, it was easier. Not that he understood the words, but there was an impulse that wanted him to take certain actions. Go to the altar of Mythal … summon Mythal … and then, he didn’t know. What he did have was a sense of certainty that if he did this, it would be the key to defeating Corypheus’s dragon.

Scrunching up his face, Jowan rubbed his temples. Whatever it was that directed his thoughts, it gave him the certainty that this dragon was not an Archdemon. Relief flooded him at that revelation. They hadn’t failed, all those years ago. Morrigan hadn’t died for nothing. ‘Daddy?’ He opened his eyes and turned, slipping from his precarious place on the edge of the wall. ‘You’re back!’ the girl said joyfully.

Smiling, Jowan lifted Darya into his arms. ‘Yes, my darling. And the others will come back soon, too. Did anything happen while we were gone?’

‘Dorian got sick, but Rhys is taking care of him, I think.’

‘That elf still here? Fenris?’

‘Yes. But aunt Núria told me to stay away from him. She said he’d been a captive in Vigil’s Keep and that he’s angry and unpredictable.’

Jowan couldn’t help laughing. ‘She’s one to talk. Never met anyone as unpredictable as our dear Núria. But stay clear of him all the same.’

‘Why is he angry?’

Jowan would have shrugged if he hadn’t been carrying the girl, making his way back down to somewhere warmer. ‘I never asked, to be honest. Lenkala seems to care, let her do that.’ He looked at the kid. ‘On a different note, what did we say about the ramparts?’

‘I shouldn’t go without you, but you’re here.’

‘You knew that?’

‘The guard saw you. Daddy, you’re different.’

Jowan swallowed, his fear that he was possessed by a demon returning with full force. ‘How?’ he managed.

‘I don’t know. More like me.’

He set her down and knelt on the cold hard ground, bringing him to her eyelevel. ‘Can you be more specific?’

‘I’m not like other mages. I told Aisling once, and she said I couldn’t tell anyone that. She said I should ask you, but the next time you came was when we had to run.’ There was no accusation in Darya’s voice, but still the words felt almost physically painful. ‘She also said you couldn’t come often because the templars wanted you dead.’

‘Aisling said that?’ He had hoped his friend would keep that part from Darya as long as possible, but she had apparently found it better to let her know than keep her in the dark why her parents only visited so rarely and never without an armed escort.

Darya nodded at his question. ‘She never said why, though.’

‘I’ll tell you. I promise. When Corypheus is dead, I’ll tell you everything.’ Never keep secrets. Secrets had been his downfall. Darya smiled, and Jowan’s world lit up. ‘So. How am I more like you?’

‘I have magic, but sometimes … I can do things others can’t. Without a staff. And so can you, now. I think. But different. If you think hard enough, you can know things. I can make them happen?’

‘What sort of things can you make happen, Darya?’ Jowan was proud of how casual his tone was. He had never been more relieved that the girl was far away from templars. The dangerous kind of templars anyway.

The girl shrugged. ‘Nothing fancy, you know. Just lights. Annie could do lights, too, but her lights were spirits.’

‘Can you show me your lights?’

‘Sure, when it’s dark. They’re just sparks, but they don’t go out unless I want them to.’

‘I’m pretty sure you can do more than that if you practice. I don’t know if I can teach you that in particular, though.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I want to see your lights, my sweet. Now … anything else I should know?’

Darya shrugged. ‘No. How long before the others come back?’

Jowan blew out his cheeks. ‘A couple of days?’

‘Are they all right, if they weren’t with you?’

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the confidence Darya had in him. ‘Yes. I … you know, I can’t tell you how, but I do know they’re all right.’

‘Of course. That’s what you can do now. Know things.’

Jowan picked Darya up again. ‘Well … I know that I’m starved. I know that Mommy isn’t going to be home today, so you’re stuck with me. I know that no-one here has time to play with you on any normal day anyway. I know … I know that tomorrow I have to be back to fighting Corypheus. So tonight I’m all yours. What do you want to do?’

‘Can we explore the castle? I wanted to go in the cellar but there’s spiders.’

‘Oh? Spiders you say? They’re no match for me. I’ll know where they are before even they do!’

Darya laughed, squirming in his arms. ‘And … Can you teach me a healing spell? Aisling said she would, she said she taught you, too.’

‘And very patiently at that. Of course I’ll teach you. And you show me your sparks.’

Darya giggled and held on to him tightly. So much he realised she must have been mortally afraid while he was gone. He wanted to promise her that he’d always be there, that she would never be alone, but he couldn’t know. Instead, he held her in turn and prayed silently that she would always be safe and loved, whether he was able to be there for her or not.

 

 


	11. Don’t Dare Me to Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is from the R.E.M. song Try Not to Breathe. I can’t for the life of me think of anything else.))

Lenkala didn’t allow herself much rest. She had to press on, to make the final move against Corypheus. The one thing she would wait for was the return of her troops from the Arbor Wilds.

Only what would happen after Corypheus was gone was beyond her. Dorian was living on borrowed time. Varric hadn’t been able to help him, and the mage’s spells had no effect on the small shard buried in his shoulder. Cole was wrecked by his own inability to help, had offered the mage to take his life if it got worse, and to Lenkala’s horror, Dorian had agreed. The worst part was that she couldn’t blame him. She would do the same in his place. He had, however, expressed a desire to see this mission through. He wanted to be part of it, and Lenkala was prepared to let him. Only she didn’t trust him to judge his ability to function.

Cole was sometimes tricky to find. Although visible, he was now mingling more. Before the encounter with the templar that had left him for dead, he had remained in his room above the tavern often, and she could usually find him there. Now, he was spending more time with others. The thing was, it seemed he always found her. He had said before that he couldn’t read her because of her mark, but a part of him knew when she needed him. So Lenkala decided to test that theory. She went to her quarters and looked at a smaller version of the map in the war room, wondering when her troops would return and where to face Corypheus.

She must have fallen asleep, the exhaustion finally claiming her. When she woke up, it was dark, but a candle was lit by her window. She smiled. ‘I knew you’d come.’ Turning in her chair, she found Cole on the window sill, hugging his knees and looking more awake than she had felt in weeks. ‘Don’t you ever sleep?’

‘I didn’t use to. Now I must.’ The young man slipped down from his spot and approached her. ‘I also have to eat. But I don’t want to.’

‘Some food is actually fun to eat, Cole.’

He made a very unconvinced face. Lenkala laughed, and his mouth curved into a small smile, too. ‘When you sleep, do you dream?’ she asked.

His expression became wistful. ‘Sometimes. It’s not like it was. I think. It’s not like when we were forced into the Fade, either.’ He shuddered.

Lenkala rose and took his hands. ‘Don’t dwell on it if it’s painful. It won’t happen again.’

‘You are afraid.’

Lenkala smiled at him. ‘Yes. Very much. We have to confront Corypheus soon. I take it you want to come with me?’

Cole nodded, his expression serious. ‘I … need to. I cannot wait to see if you come back. And if you don’t …’ He bit his lip, struggling with words. ‘I don’t want you to die. You’ve done so much for me. For everyone. But also for me. And I don’t know why.’

‘Don’t you?’ Lenkala held on to him, felt the warmth of his skin and wondered for the first time if perhaps her touch was unwelcome. ‘I care about you, Cole.’

The young man looked stricken, his eyes darting between hers as if trying to catch one of them lying. ‘You … you do.’ It wasn’t a question. ‘Rhys does, too, but not like you. Bright, brilliant, bleeding into the dark. No, he’s not like this.’ Cole pulled his hands away and tilted his head. ‘If I touch you, I feel.’ Tentatively, he reached out again, and he smiled when they made contact, his eyes closing. ‘I can feel you like this, Lenka.’

She had no idea how he had come so close, all of a sudden, his face inches from hers. ‘Cole … what are you doing?’ Her heart was racing, her brain fried, and Cole’s breath was whispering against her skin.

‘I don’t know.’

Lenkala didn’t manage to think of an answer. Cole’s hands slid out of hers and settled on her waist, pulling her into a gentle but very close embrace. His nose dug into the crook of her neck and he sighed. Unable to resist, Lenkala buried her face in the taller man’s chest, smelling him, wanting nothing more than to hold on and never let go. When he released her, he positively stared at her, mouth slightly open, cheeks flushed crimson. Lenkala placed a shaking hand over his heart. ‘Why would you do that?’ She feared the answer more than facing Corypheus.

‘I couldn’t … I don’t know.’

Her eyes closed with a mixture of relief and dread. He hadn’t said that he had done what she wanted, and that was certainly a good sign. Given the vagueness of his answer, she didn’t dare hope too much, though. ‘Cole? I think we should discuss this later. After Corypheus.’

‘What if there is no after?’

Unable to stop herself, Lenkala took Cole’s face into both her hands. ‘Let’s make sure there is, Cole.’ She felt his nod more than she saw it and forced her eyes away from him to her map again. ‘Wait a moment, please.’ She stepped outside and talked to the guard. ‘I’d like to discuss something. But before that I want to ask you something. How is Dorian holding up?’

‘He is hurting and he is afraid. I … I cannot help him Lenka.’

‘No, I don’t think anyone can.’ She rubbed over her eyes. ‘He wants to come with me when we face Corypheus. What do you say? Can he do it? He says he can, but maybe you know better.’

‘He can fight. He needs to.’

Lenkala nodded. ‘All right.’ A gentle knock on her door announced a visitor. ‘Ah, good, he’s awake. Come in!’ The door revealed Jowan, and he didn’t look very much awake. His hair was messed up, his eyes half closed, and his stubble more pronounced than usually. ‘The guard woke you up, didn’t he?’

‘It’s all right.’

‘I told him not to. Darya all right?’

‘She didn’t hear a thing. Bless her.’

‘Jowan … What did that well do to you, exactly?’

‘To me? Not so sure. It did something for me. All I need is a little bit of time. I need to go … oh, you got a map here. Right there. I need to summon Mythal … please don’t ask how I know, I just do.’ He looked at her and at Cole. ‘I believe you should prepare to move as soon as your army is back. Don’t wait for me. I’ll find you.’

‘How?’

It was Cole that answered. ‘The other one, the voice in your head. She’s calling you, and she’ll send you forth. Her champion to right what was done wrong.’

Jowan blushed. ‘I don’t know about me being anyone’s champion. Wait for the rest to return from …’ A flash of lightning lit up the night sky. All three of them ran to the balcony and stared out into the dark. A poisonous green light was roiling in the clouds, too far to tell what it was, but they all knew. ‘On second thought, don’t wait. Grab whoever you can and go to Haven. I’ll find you there.’

‘Whom?’

‘Cole, Dorian, Solas. I can’t, so you need a warrior, too.’

‘The only bleeding warrior here is Evangeline, and I am not taking a pregnant woman.’

Jowan shook his head. ‘Lenka, if I could, I’d come, but I’ve got to go elsewhere. If doesn’t die, Evangeline’s child will never be born. Think of it that way.’

‘Fenris,’ Lenkala said. ‘He can fight.’

‘You trust him? Around Dorian?’ Jowan asked. ‘Also Corypheus is a mage. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the woman is a templar. Take her, she’s about the most useful person you can have, with Cassandra unavailable.’

‘Jowan, she being pregnant also means she’ll unconsciously defend her child, be more cautious. I don’t need cautious, so I have no-one else!’ she said sharply. ‘Cole, will he harm Dorian?’

‘No, but he won’t protect him either.’

She balled her fists. ‘Oh, he will.’

Ϡ

‘This is amazing,’ Núria said, almost breathless. ‘So beautiful.’

Jowan huffed. ‘Don’t be too smitten with the surroundings. I have no idea what exactly Mythal is. For all I know, she may be little less dangerous than Corypheus.’

‘Well, do your summoning. We’ll see.’

Jowan nodded and approached the altar. He cleared his throat. ‘Mythal! Come to me. I drank from the Well of Sorrows. You know that. Whatever you are, whoever remains, I invoke your name and your power!’

Zevran smirked at the way Jowan’s voice rose in volume and height, but the smile died on his face quickly. Something was happening, that much was certain. The wind, hardly noticeable before, blew harshly, tugging at Núria’s hair and taking her breath away. The air grew dense before them, forming a shadow. And out of the shadow stepped a woman. Núria stared at her blankly, recognising the face at once.

All of a sudden, she wasn’t the Hero of Ferelden, a woman who had braved a Blight, assassins, spirits, and Maker knows what else, but a lonely, frightened girl with only a stranger for company and the end of the world looming before her. ‘Flemeth,’ she whispered before shaking herself and shoving the unwelcome memories away. She felt Zevran’s gaze and offered a nod, telling him without words that she was all right and he need not worry.

‘Grey Warden. Now there’s a surprise.’

‘You can’t be Mythal. Mythal wasn’t a …’

‘ _Shemlen_?’ Flemeth’s voice was brimming with amusement. ‘Mythal was one of the people. Interesting for you to know, because they would have called you what you were going to call me. A city elf. A degenerate, unaware of her own history.’

Núria folded her arms. ‘I know a bit, Flemeth. Hang on. Does that mean you’re not an abomination?’

‘Abomination. Such a crude word. Once I was but a woman, crying out at the lonely darkness for justice. And she came to me. A wisp of an ancient being, and she granted me all I wanted and more. I have carried Mythal all the ages and since, seeking the justice denied to her.’

‘And just how do you know you weren’t tricked by a demon?’ Jowan asked.

Flemeth turned to him. ‘You answer that question yourself. What do the voices say?’

‘They say you speak the truth. But I’m not sure that’s saying much. You’re the one controlling the voices.’

‘Clever lad. The voices do not lie, Grey Warden. Oh, don’t look at me like that, I sensed your own taint the moment the water of the well touched your lips. I can help you.’ Flemeth reached out towards Jowan, shrouding him in mist. ‘The altar’s guardian will come. Master the dragon, and it will be yours to command against Corypheus. Fail, and die.’ With one last glance at Núria, Flemeth turned to leave.

‘Wait!’ she called after her.

Flemeth halted but didn’t turn. ‘I wished to see who drank from the well of sorrows. It has been a very long time. Now I have, and he is free to go.’

‘About Morrigan …’

‘Morrigan chose her death, make no mistake. She never expected to survive facing the Old Gods. But she was not the last.’

And Flemeth vanished like she’d come, taken by the wind. Jowan was pale. ‘What does she mean?’ He swallowed. ‘What did she mean by that, not the last? She didn’t mean Darya! She can’t have.’

Zevran opened his mouth to answer, but again, the wind picked up. This time, it was different, however. This was familiar. With a roar, a dragon landed before them. ‘Ah, running isn’t an option?’ Zevran asked.

‘Stay back, get away from me,’ Jowan told them sharply. ‘I’ll handle this, I need a few moments, but you need to go.’ He brought both hands to his chest, then, in one fluid motion, shoved them outwards. The dragon was caught in gust of ice cold wind, slowed by the spell and the freezing temperature. ‘Run, now! This’ll get you as much as the dragon.’

Finally, Núria started to run towards where they’d come from, Zevran next to her. ‘What is he doing?’ the Antivan asked. ‘What is the fool doing?’

‘Maker’s breath, I’ve got no idea.’ Núria skidded to a halt under the thick canopy of the forest and stared. Jowan seemed tiny next to the dragon. The beast was slowed, but still approaching the mage, and he wasn’t moving. ‘We’ve got to help him!’

‘I don’t think we can.’

And then, Jowan did move, a flailing motion skywards. The air crackled and thunder struck down from the heavens. Jowan ran. As fast as he could, he headed towards them, away from the centre of the electrical blizzard he had summoned. He nearly crashed into Núria, breathless and sweating. ‘Stay back.’

Núria snorted. ‘I was just going to go in there. Ah … how long will that last?’

‘A bit. But I don’t assume it’ll wait.’

Indeed it didn’t. The dragon came towards them, but it wasn’t anywhere near as agile as before. ‘Stay back,’ Jowan said again. The air around him crackled, enveloping him in magic. This, Núria knew. The mage drew his sword and walked forwards, his blade pointed at the dragon. The creature roared its fury at him, but the mage didn’t back down. ‘You won’t defeat me,’ he said. ‘I know you understand me. I’m not done, yet.’

‘We’ve got to do something, Zev.’

Zevran had his swords drawn, but wasn’t moving. ‘This looks more like a battle of wills. I don’t think we want to harm this thing.’

Núria faced him and gestured to the mage. ‘If it harms Jowan … Leliana … I’ll rather kill the dragon than tell her he’s dead.’

‘Look … you won’t have to.’

She spun back around, and if it hadn’t been for Zevran’s hand on her arm, she’d have stepped between them now. A blue glow emanated from Jowan, flowing over to the dragon, reflected in its eyes. Again, it roared, spittle flying into Jowan’s face, but the mage didn’t seem to notice.

After what seemed like an eternity, the beast’s head lowered. ‘Go,’ Jowan said, his voice rough. ‘Go to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Now.’ While the dragon lifted itself into the air, Jowan turned and smiled at them. He was still smiling when he collapsed in a heap.

 

 


	12. Dance With Me And Join My Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((The chapter heading is from the ASP song Hunger. And this between Leliana and Jowan is something I wanted to do in Saving Us and never got round to write. They have my sincerest apologies and some compensation in this chapter. Um.))

Lenkala had expected to be attacked by a horde of red templars when she reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes. But if they were there, they didn’t intend to fight her. And while she couldn’t see Corypheus, she sensed him. ‘Dorian …’

‘I’m all right.’

She turned and looked at her company, frightened but not in a position to show it. The notion seemed mirrored on all their faces.

When she had gone to Fenris, ready to rant at him in advance and to dare him to risk Dorian’s life in the upcoming battle, all the elf had done was listen quietly before telling her he knew there was more at stake than his or Dorian’s life was worth. Now here he stood, next to Varric, Cole, Dorian, and Solas, and she had no doubt that he would do all in his power to see Corypheus die. As did they all. ‘This is it,’ she said. ‘We’ll win this. We’ll beat Corypheus, I close the breach, and we can all go back and forget about this mess.’

‘Yes, we’ll laugh about this later,’ Dorian said.

Lenkala grinned at him. ‘And once we’re done, we’ll find a way to help you. I’m not letting you die.’

‘I’ll hold you to it.’

‘Lenka,’ Cole said, his bright blue eyes wide. ‘You need to survive.’

Lenkala swallowed, the intense look resonating within her. ‘I certainly plan to.’

He took a tentative step forwards and reached out to take her hands the way she had done so many times with him. ‘Promise me.’

‘I … I can’t, Cole.’ The spirit turned away, but she held on to him. ‘Look … I really want to get through this. And … when we’re back at Skyhold we can talk. Good?’

His cheeks slightly flushed, Cole met her eyes again and nodded, just once.

‘I believe,’ Fenris said softly, ‘we’re about to have company.’

Corypheus’s dragon approached at breakneck speed, and Lenkala braced herself. Before it could land, however, another dragon crashed into it, both roaring at a painful volume. ‘Jowan,’ Lenkala whispered. ‘This is his doing, no doubt.’ This time, she faced the men behind her with a grin. ‘Onwards! Let’s kill the magister.’

Dorian grinned back. ‘Hah! That’s the spirit.’

Ϡ

After his initial breakdown, Jowan had recovered quickly enough to move, but he would need a while before he cast anything again. All the way back to Skyhold, he felt Núria’s eyes on him, watching if he was all right. He wasn’t, his head felt as if a fly landing on it would cause it to explode, but that was to be expected. There was only so much a mage could cast, and he had never been on the overly powerful side. What he’d done was a feat to be proud of for anyone.

When they reached the castle, the night sky was still broiling with Corypheus’s sinister magic, but that was to be expected. The Inquisitor could only have left a while after them, so maybe she and her companions hadn’t even reached him yet – or only just. The dragon would wait until they threatened its master. He knew that much. He also knew that going after them was pointless. The fate of Thedas lay in her hands.

On their departure, one guard had seen them off. Now, they were greeted by two. The entire keep was bustling again. Jowan excused himself, making up his mind where he wanted to be in what might be his final hours.

If Jowan’s past had done one thing for him, it was turning him into a realist. As it stood, there was an excellent chance that they would all be dead before the dawn. Darya would be sleeping, and if they all had to die, he’d rather she died in her sleep. Also, if he woke her up, he’d alarm her, and that was the last thing he wanted. He prayed quietly that this horror vision didn’t come to pass, that his little girl would live a long and happy life. He couldn’t help smiling. After all these years, he’d come to think of her as his, and so did Leliana. What with him being a Grey Warden, they’d never have a child of their own. If they survived, he decided, they would build a snowman the next day.

With Darya not an option, Jowan headed to Leliana’s quarters. He removed his armour outside her bedroom and slipped inside in his smallclothes. She was sprawled on her back, taking up all the space available. He couldn’t help smiling. She was one of those people who could sleep in the middle of a battlefield and wake up completely alert, a typical sign of someone who had been on the run or had fought more battles than anyone should. Both was true for her.

Sighing, Jowan crouched beside her. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over her cheeks. ‘You’ll never get hurt again. Not if I have any say.’

Her eyes opened, alarmed for a moment until she took him in. ‘Hello,’ she said then, smiling as if the world wasn’t falling apart at the seams and placing her hand over his. ‘Any news?’

‘I sent them a dragon. Beyond that, all as it was.’

Leliana made room for him and he slipped under the covers gratefully. This place was cold, even by Fereldan standards. ‘Then why d’you wake me?’ she whispered and snuggled close. One of her legs wriggled between his and pressed into his crotch. That alone could be considered an answer to her own question.

Still, Jowan played along, despite his immediate reaction to the gentle pressure of her thigh against his sex. ‘Oh, I can leave if I’m breaking your sleep.’

An arm snaked around him, holding him in place. ‘Don’t you dare.’ His eyes, adjusted to the dark by now, found hers. She looked as frightened as he felt. ‘This may be our last night. I feared I wouldn’t see you again before …’

Jowan placed a forefinger on her lips. Screw realism. ‘Before the Inquisitor comes back victorious? We don’t know this is the end. It might not be, you know.’ His hand travelled to Leliana’s neck, and he placed his lips on hers. He wanted nothing more than to forget what was going on outside. ‘I … Liana, I want to make love to you. If these really are our last hours …’

Gentle hands tugged at his briefs and he struggled out of them before removing Leliana’s nightshift. In the eerie light she looked as young as the first time they had been together, in the Gnawed Noble in Denerim. He had been so nervous, so self-conscious, so afraid that Leliana would one day open her eyes and see nothing but a maleficar who deserved to rot in an unmarked grave. And with every day she had stood by him his confidence had grown. ‘You are amazing, you know that?’ he whispered, pulling her flush against him.

‘You’re not too bad either, for a man,’ she answered.

Jowan chuckled. Apparently he wasn’t the only one reminded of that night. This, too, had been something he’d fretted over after Zevran had dropped a hint regarding Leliana’s sexuality. The Antivan had been dressed down by her the next day after she’d swept away Jowan’s concern that she might prefer a woman. ‘Oh, not too bad, is it?’ He let his hands travel over her skin, exploring her as if he hadn’t done this a million times before, as if he didn’t know her body as well as his own. Warm fingers grasped his member and he couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped his lips.

 ‘For a man,’ she repeated, and he tipped her head up to reveal the gleam of mischief and the grin she’d been hiding.

Jowan grinned back and kissed her, deeply this time, sucking on her lower lip when he slipped a finger inside her. ‘Oh, you … I’ll think of a comeback later, when my brain’s working again.’ He closed his eyes, tasting her as they shared open mouthed kisses.

The fingers of her free hand tangled into his hair to hold him near, her body undulating against him.  ‘See, that’s what I mean,’ Leliana whispered against his lips. ‘Women can do more than one thing at a time.’

Laughing at her reply, Jowan pulled one of Leliana’s legs over his hip and positioned himself. The bard held on to him as if for dear life when she tilted her hips, taking him inside. This was also something she had taught him: that sex wasn’t always a serious matter. Not that he had brought overly much experience with him, but he’d never have thought it could ever be appropriate to joke in such a situation. His eyes found the window and the dark magic befouling the sky, and he pulled Leliana on top of him, removing it from his field of vision. He needed to forget. ‘I could,’ he told her. ‘I prefer not to distract myself and enjoy you with all my senses. I love you way too much for that.’ He let his magic flow into his hands, only a hint of it. This much he could do even in his drained state. The humour fled from Leliana’s face and she threw her head back, starting to ride him in earnest.

‘Do that again, love,’ she breathed, her hair hanging in her face, hands braced against his chest.

Covering her breasts with his hands, he did as he was asked. ‘Anything you want, Liana. I’m all yours.’ Jowan bent his legs to improve his mobility. ‘Any other requests?’ She leaned down to kiss him, then took his head in her hands and locked eyes with him, pressing their foreheads together.

‘Just one, my dear Jowan. Don’t stop if the world starts falling apart around us. If I have to die tonight, I want to die joined with you.’

Jowan wrapped both arms around her, holding her tightly as he picked up speed. Leliana grasped his shoulders, clutching him to her. Her eyes were overly bright and still firmly on his face as if he was the most important thing in the world. When he tried to hold back, to draw this out as long as he could, Leliana propped herself up and moved with such urgency she made a nonsense of that plan. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open with the intensity. The heat in his groin became solid. Leliana moaned, his name on her lips, and he couldn’t hold back. His hands found her hips and he held her close, grinding against her as he came, taking her over the edge with him.

Jowan let his arms fall, trying to catch his breath. Leliana had collapsed on top of him, kissing his collarbone and turning her head to the side. He felt her go rigid and slip out of their bed without a word. She stood at the window, blocking the sight from his angle. ‘Leliana?’

She took a few seconds to answer. ‘I believe you should come here and look, darling. Soon. As in right now.’

Ϡ

Lenkala screamed her rage after Corypheus when he fled – yet again. Her frustration was evident, and Varric shared it. He still wanted to say he wasn’t made for the frontlines, he wasn’t supposed to be doing any of this, and yet again, he found himself exactly where he didn’t want to be – and again, he wouldn’t actually have it any other way.

‘Jowan’s dragon’s in trouble,’ he said, and they all stared as the creature was killed in mid-air by Corypheus’s monster. When the red-lyrium dragon landed, however, it was evidently hurt.

‘Let’s finish it, then,’ Lenkala said. She was bleeding from a vicious cut on her forehead, but she didn’t even seem to notice. Cole eyed her with tangible concern, and Varric made a mental note to have a thorough conversation with the lad once this was all over. He wasn’t going to discourage him, but the poor kid had so little experience he might appreciate a few words.

The dragon roared in pain and the anger of a wounded beast but seemed reluctant to attack due to its injuries. Varric was very certain that wouldn’t last. He took them all in, their battered state showing that if this fight lasted as long as it already had, they were done.

Dorian’s face was white and shining with sweat, his jaw was clenched, and his determination to hide his pain was fooling no-one except perhaps himself. Solas had taken a moment to lean forwards, taking deep breaths with his hands on his knees, but now his eternal composure was back, his gaze fixed on the dragon. He was the only reason why they were all still standing. Cole had received a vicious blow that must have cracked more than one rib. When Varric had seen his back crash into the sharp edge of a wall he had actually thought the kid would never rise again. Fenris was the only one who hadn’t uttered a word since they had joined battle. Come to think of it, he’d never heard him raise his voice in a fight. He was calmer than Solas even, completely focussed. Even now, his eyes followed the dragon’s every movement while still managing to scan their surroundings for Corypheus making an appearance.

‘This thing needs to die,’ the elf said, catching Varric’s eye. ‘I suggest one of us keeps an eye out for the magister.’ He nodded towards Dorian. The mage wanted to protest, but Fenris forestalled him. ‘You are barely standing. Cast a barrier if Solas can’t for some reason, but stay out of trouble. You have fought bravely. There is no need for you to die.’

A smile tugged at the corner of Varric’s mouth. He would have hugged the elf if their situation weren’t so dire. ‘He’s right, Sparkler. Don’t kill yourself just yet.’

Dorian exchanged a glance with Lenkala, and at her nod, he let his mask slip. ‘You’re right. Kick it’s ass for me a bit.’

‘I believe we all plan to.’ With that, Fenris charged, so fast it was difficult to see him. Even the dragon, whose perception was better than that of a dwarf, couldn’t get a hold on him. One moment he was slashing at a foreleg, then the dragon wanted to grab him, and Fenris darted out of the way and _through_ the beast to drive his blade into its rear. Cole’s style looked somewhat similar, but while he was good at getting out of the way, he couldn’t literally soak a hit the way Fenris could.

Solas sighed next to Varric. ‘The kid is going to get himself killed.’

Varric loaded and took aim, waiting for the beast to lift its head a bit. ‘The kid is faster than the dragon.’

‘Speaking of fast … your friend is quite the warrior.’

‘I know.’ The dragon did as Varric had hoped, and he released a bolt. It landed just under the beast’s jaw. Slowed by blood loss and exhaustion, it looked for them, but Varric and Solas dived out of sight in time. The fire struck a bit away from where they had been and far too late.’

‘It’s going to fall soon,’ Solas said.

‘Shame the Iron Lady isn’t here.’

‘Yes. I agree, for once.’ Solas made a quick movement with both hands, and the air grew dense around Cole. The barrier came just in time before a claw made contact with him. ‘How do I tell him to be more careful?’

‘No idea. I tried.’

‘He wants to protect her.’

‘Lenka’s a mage, she can look after herself. I told him that, too, trust me.’

‘You do realise why he is so desperate to keep her safe.’

Varric closed his eyes for a moment. ‘Not now, Chuckles.’ He really didn’t want to get into that conversation again. The dragon took a deep breath. Varric managed to launch a bolt directly into its mouth, causing it to snap it shut rather than breathing fire. Solas laughed, and Varric shot him a glare. ‘Of all the inappropriate moments …’

‘Your Bianca never misses the mark, does she?’

‘She learned from the best.’

‘I wasn’t going to blame you, you know. I was going to say … perhaps you were right.’

Varric was going to reply, but then Cole somehow hauled himself onto the dragon’s neck. ‘Andraste’s flaming ass, what is he doing?’

Solas didn’t answer. Instead, he cast another barrier on the rogue, shaking his head and staring as the young man found the juncture between the beast’s head and spine and rammed a dagger into it. The dragon’s attempts to shake him off became feebler, and finally, it sank to the floor. Cole jumped off before he could be thrown.

‘Now what?’ Varric asked.

‘Now we can kill Corypheus,’ Solas said earnestly. ‘He’s back, look.’

The death of the dragon had driven the magister into desperation. While he attacked even more viciously, he also got careless. They evaded with more ease, and there was hardly a moment where Fenris wasn’t directly at him, keeping him occupied. Before, even the elf had sometimes failed to follow immediately. Varric and Solas both fell silent, focussed on staying alive and bringing down the monstrosity that sought to destroy the world.

For a time, it seemed to work. Then Cole was caught by a spell and flung off their piece of rock. Varric prayed silently but fervently that he hadn’t fallen to his death. Damn him, but he liked the kid. ‘Don’t be distracted.’

Varric shot Solas a glare but didn’t say anything. He was right. ‘I’m trying. Dorian all right?’

‘Unconscious.’ Fenris was engulfed in fire, and even though Solas managed to protect him from the worst of it, the elf collapsed.

‘We’re going to die, aren’t we?’ Varric asked.

‘Likely.’

Lenkala froze. She let her staff fall, and for a moment Varric thought she was going to surrender. Then she thrust her mark out at Corypheus. The air crackled with energy as the two fought a battle on an entirely different level. Intrigued beyond fear, Varric wanted to approach, but Solas held him back. ‘Better not.’

‘What’s he holding?’ Varric asked sharply, noticing the orb in Corypheus’s hand for the first time. Solas didn’t answer. He just stared as the thing vanished before it materialised in Lenkala’s hand and Corypheus went to his knees. With a triumphant shout, Lenkala thrust her hand up against the breach, and before their eyes, the wound in the very heavens healed. The slight elven mage smiled. Slowly, she walked towards Corypheus. Varric saw her talk, but the noise stole the words from her lips. A rift opened inside the magister, tearing him up and swallowing him. The orb fell from Lenkala’s hands and shattered. Corypheus was gone, the breach closed. Varric let himself fall to his knees and allowed the fact that the world was safe bring actual tears to his eyes.

 

 


	13. Aftermath

The sun was already standing low, and they had barely been outside an hour. Darya was having the time of her life, and so was Jowan. Leliana watched them, smiling fondly and still struggling to acknowledge the fact that it was all over.

After the breach had been closed, almost all the castle had drifted out into the courtyard to stare at the heavens, taking in the enormity of what had happened. There was still uncertainty if Lenkala had survived the ordeal, but all in all, this had to mean Corypheus was defeated. They’d known the waiting would be hard, but at least, the world was safe.

The next day, Jowan had built a snowman with Darya and her. The thing still stood, and probably would do so for a while. It was well away from the training grounds, after all, and the weather didn’t threaten to get any warmer.

By now, Lenkala was back with almost all those that had gone with her. Cole looked completely battered and had been coaxed into the infirmary, and Dorian was still dying, but the rest of them seemed fine enough. Only Solas was gone. According to the others, he had been there throughout the fight but had left after it, apparently heartbroken over the loss of some elven artefact. Lenkala insisted that he’d be back, but with every passing day, Leliana doubted it more. The elf seemed to be gone for good.

Leliana waved at her family before moving back inside. There was much for her to do. Later tonight there would be the celebration that was overdue. They all deserved it, the Inquisitor and those fighting with her most of all. And Jowan, her brave, wonderful mage. The Dalish had all but rushed Leliana to tell her how without the fortuitous appearance of a dragon that helped them, they would all be dead. Leliana wished she could have been there, but you couldn’t have everything.

Fretting more with every passing minute, Leliana checked in the kitchens and everywhere else to make sure the evening would be perfect. Their visitors would be of high rank, and they should make a good impression. Sure, the danger was over, but there were still things to do. Small rifts were still scattered in a few places, and they needed closing. The venatori were still out there, and Corypheus’s death wouldn’t mean they’d come to their senses. Red lyrium was still around all over the place. No, the Inquisition’s work was far from over. That aside, if it was disbanded right now, they’d leave a gaping hole in the general balance of power in the south of Thedas.

And then there was the matter of the vacant Sunburst Throne. The Inquisitor had asked Leliana’s opinion. Apparently both Cassandra and Vivienne had approached her for support. While Vivienne was not an option as far as Lenkala was concerned, the Inquisitor’s suggestion had Leliana on edge. The elf had suggested that she, a bard, sit on the throne. If it weren’t for Jowan and Darya, she might even have agreed, but she was not going to abandon her family, and that was what it would have meant. No. Better to have Cassandra chosen. This was a likely outcome and one Leliana could appreciate. While the changes Cassandra would make might not be radical enough for Leliana’s liking, she assumed it was a sensible middle ground and a stable situation.

But this was for the future. Right now, her concerns were two particular people. The first of them she found sitting on a bed, arms folded, chin pressed against his chest in a scowl that sought its peer. She forced herself not to laugh. ‘What’s wrong, Cole?’

The young man turned his eyes up to her. ‘They aren’t letting me out. I tried to leave, but they can all see me. How am I supposed to leave if they can see me?’

Leliana sat next to him. ‘I’ll talk to them. Perhaps they can release you for the celebration. But if they say you’re too hurt, you’ve got to stay.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Lenka wants you alive and well, you know. Think of it that way.’

‘She was here earlier. She said I shouldn’t try and sneak out again.’

‘She’s right.’ Leliana tilted her head. ‘If they let you go for a few hours, do you promise to return afterwards?’

He looked so eager, Leliana did laugh. ‘Yes! I’ll go back, I just want to be there. I need to talk to Lenka, and here I don’t want to. Too quiet, too many ears.’

‘She been here a lot?’

Cole nodded. ‘Yes. I wonder why.’

Leliana smiled, wondering if the lad was really so oblivious. ‘You mean a lot to her, Cole. I’ll talk to the healers. They’ll let you know.’

‘How is Dorian?’

Leliana made a face. ‘Not good. I’ll ask him about tonight, if he can join and if he even wants to. He’s been retreating into his library more than usual. He doesn’t want to be seen so vulnerable.’

‘How long does he have?’

‘I don’t know. None of us do. That’s perhaps the worst part.’ She patted Cole’s knee. ‘I’ll see you later. If they don’t let you out, I’ll come just before the celebration and bring you some wine. Have you ever had wine?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’ll make sure you’re getting the best we have.’

Ϡ

Rhys fled the room at Vivienne’s gesture. Evangeline was suffering, and he wasn’t able to help. Right now, the contrary seemed to be the case. She didn’t want him to see her so frail. He wanted to tell her that it didn’t matter, that he understood she wasn’t being weak, that suffering from the withdrawal wasn’t her fault … and he would, but he had picked the worst moment. Instead of giving comfort, his words had enraged her. Rhys was sensible enough to know she was angry at herself more than him and that anger was part of the withdrawal, so he wasn’t too hurt by her shoving his hand away from hers and shouting for him to get lost. He’d return later. She was going to tell him she was sorry, and he would just hold her and tell her all was well. And it was. There was still much for her to endure, and if there was one thing she needed to know it was the he would stand by her.

Outside, he saw Jowan with his daughter. The apostate was on his back in the snow, arms crossed over his face and laughing so hard he was completely oblivious to his surroundings. Darya was drawing in the snowflakes, letting them sail onto his face. They were glowing … Rhys had never seen anything like it.

Coming from the main hall was Leliana. She watched the scene with folded arms and a smile before charging forwards, lifting Darya into the air and spinning her around. The girl squeaked with joy. Jowan picked himself up and dusted snow off his robe. He was positively caked in it. He caught Rhys’s eye and nodded towards him. Needing someone to talk to, Rhys approached. ‘Can I have a word with you?’ he asked. Leliana stiffened, and he sighed. ‘I’m not going to have Jowan arrested, if that is what you fear. Not that I could, even if I wanted to.’ It was strange. He had voted to split from the Chantry. Now, those loyal to it eyed him with distrust. But what with Evangeline being a templar, the mages also feared him. Not that he thought Jowan feared anyone. If the stories were true – and Rhys thought they were – he had tamed a dragon and sent it to assist Lenkala. What sort of man could do such a thing?

The blood mage shrugged. ‘Sure.’ They retreated to the stairs. Jowan placed his hands on one of them, and for a moment they seemed to glow from within.

Rhys touched the ground tentatively, finding it warm enough, but not uncomfortably so. ‘I never thought of that. I assume the real heat is further within the rock? I never thought of anything like that.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Well. I had a friend who’d have told you I do what everyone needs and no-one else bothers.’ He grinned. ‘He also would have told you I could cast any spell that hasn’t even been invented, as long as you didn’t ask me to cast the same spell twice.’

Rhys laughed. ‘Oh?’

‘Focus isn’t my strongest point. But it’s better than it was. A lot.’

‘And your friend? He has focus but no inventiveness?’

‘Had. Perhaps less than me. He was a better mage than I am, though.’ Jowan shook his head. ‘I’ve lost him and another great friend to the war between mages and templars. Neither of them wanted anything to do with it, they just wanted to stay out. One was killed by a mage, the other by a templar. I don’t care which side started. They’re all wrong, and I doubt it’s going to get better any time soon.’

‘I’d have expected a more … pro-mage opinion from someone like you.’

Jowan gave him a lingering look. ‘Someone like me. I’d ask you what that is, exactly, but I think we both know. It doesn’t matter. My opinion on the matter is pro letting people live. Someone like me as well as … templars. The normal ones, not the red ones, obviously.’ He shook his head as if trying to get rid of a very persistent fly. ‘I’d rather not dwell on the entire mess. How can I help you?’

‘Ah … what is it like to have a mage child for a non-mage? I mean … as in … pregnancy.’

Jowan chuckled. ‘I have no idea. And neither does Leliana.’ He looked at Rhys as if sizing him up. ‘Darya’s parents are both dead. She doesn’t know that yet, because we took her when she was a baby. We’ll tell her soon, though, once everything’s calmed down a little around here. She has a right to know.’

‘Oh.’

‘I can tell you what raising a little mage is like, though. Might I ask what you intend to do when your kid is born? Do you stay here or leave?’

Rhys blew out his cheeks. ‘For now this seems to be the safest place to be.’

Jowan nodded fervently. He smiled at Darya and Leliana chasing each other in the waning light. It had started to snow again, their footprints slowly vanishing under another layer. ‘Yes. There are ways to tell if your child is a mage. I don’t recommend hiding it from her in that case. Let her grow up knowing that one day her powers will awaken and … well, we’ll see what then. Perhaps the Inquisition can make sure that by that time her magic won’t be a stigma anymore.’

‘What is Darya doing?’ As before, the snowflakes were giving off light. Darya was standing in the midst of it looking skywards, arms outstretched. ‘That’s not your average magic.’

Jowan’s expression hardened, and Rhys knew he wouldn’t get an answer. ‘This … isn’t a topic for right now, perhaps not ever. I’m sorry. All I’ll tell you is Darya is special.’

‘Who were her parents?’

The blood mage licked his lips and offered a conspiratorial smile. ‘You wouldn’t believe me.’

‘Try me.’

‘King Alistair and Morrigan. Another apostate. A witch of the wilds, even.’

Somehow, Rhys had heard stranger things, and yet … ‘You’re right. Well, at least I’m not sure if I believe you. It doesn’t explain … this.’

Jowan rose. ‘No. It doesn’t. I need to protect my daughter before anything else. I am certain you understand that I cannot say anything that might put her in danger if the information ends up in the wrong hands. I apologise.’

Ϡ

Cole was usually happy just being left alone. That he had wanted to attend the celebration was something that puzzled him. He would think about it later. Right now, he was content to watch. He tried not to watch Dorian too much, though. The mage was under a spell or a substance that suppressed his pain, but he looked ill. Tired, drained, and gaunt. He was also no longer able to cast. He hadn’t said so, but Cole could sense his distress over that as if the man were screaming it out for all to hear. The worst part, however, was that he could hear the song of the red lyrium from the mage. It was almost time.

Lenkala was trying to have fun, and for a while she managed. She was worried, too, because Solas had left. He wouldn’t come back. Cole knew, although he couldn’t say why.

He ate a little, and it didn’t seem as terrible as it previously had. The healers had ordered him to eat more, and he knew deep down that they were right. So he ate. First with disgust, now with something a little better than indifference. He still had to be reminded to do so, however. It was so easy to forget.

Well into the evening, Lenkala stepped up to her throne. Instead of sitting, however, she jumped on top of it. ‘Listen!’ she shouted. ‘Listen everyone. I hear you all saying how I saved the world. And how I should get married to one of you nobles. Let me answer that one first. I won’t.’ There was some laughter and some muttering. ‘I will remain with the Inquisition for now. And I ask all those who fought with me to do the same, for the time being. However, if anyone wishes to leave, I will not stop them and I remain grateful for all you have done so far.’

Cole smiled when he heard the soldiers cheering as well as Lenka’s closer friends. None of them would walk away just yet. That was good. ‘The other thing … I couldn’t have done this alone. All of you have played a vital part. Cullen, without your leadership we would never have survived Haven. Josie … without your patience I’d have pissed off all our allies. Leliana … you’re the heart of the Inquisition. Nothing can live without a heart.’

Cheers again, and Leliana was blushing. She knew how big her part in their victory was, but she didn’t want to stand in the light. She was more familiar with the shadows. ‘Bull, Sera, Blackwall, Cass, Viv … I couldn’t wait for you and deprived you of a part in that final battle. A battle you’d have made much less painful. I’m sorry. For the rest of us more than you.’

Even the Knight Enchanter smiled at that. Sera hooted. Bull slammed his fist into the table in applause, making everything on it bounce up and down until Cassandra stopped him. ‘And then … Cole, Dorian, Varric, Fenris … and Solas … they stood by me at the bitter end, risking to suffer a brutal and cruel death. And Jowan, the mage who sent me a bleeding dragon. Celebrate them. They played at least as big a part as I did. I am not the Inquisition. We all are, together. Don’t you ever forget it.’

Cole saw her walk away to her door and rushed towards her. He caught her by the arm and stared, torn between wanting to say something and fearing rejection. ‘I …’ He faltered, feeling himself flush. He looked away.

‘You’ve got to go back to the infirmary. I know Leliana made you promise.’

‘I feel fine.’

Lenkala smiled at him, and something warm spread outwards from Cole’s stomach. It ached, but in a good way. She placed her hand on his cheek and her thumb caressed his skin lightly. ‘Do you have any idea how terrified I was when you fell from that platform? I thought you’re dead for sure.’

‘I am not dead, Lenka.’ Cole hardly recognised his voice. It was too quiet and too hoarse.

‘No. And I need you to stay this way. Please. Please go back until they say you’re all right. I’ll … I’ll walk you there?’ Her hand settled on his elbow, trying to steer him towards the door.

They were halfway outside when the door opened and a gust of cold wind carried in a woman in a chantry robe, her face hidden under a piece of cloth. ‘This is getting ridiculous,’ Lenkala said, sounding more annoyed than worried.

Cole wanted to answer, but then the woman’s emotions hit him with such force the words died in his throat. Hatred. Deep and dark and dreadful, eating her alive, killing all else. He had never felt anything like this, not even from Lambert … He backed away, feeling the cold, deadening loathing like a knife in his gut. He wasn’t even sure if it was directed at him or someone else, but it was definitely there. He wanted to warn Lenka, but she had already reached the new arrival. Her hood also carried the Chantry’s sunburst, he noted.

‘Welcome to the Inquisition,’ Lenkala said. She didn’t feel anything, sounded at ease. ‘I am Lenkala Lavellan. Take that thing off, I’d rather see your face.’

‘Ah … Inquisitor, let her wear it. It’s a penitent’s cowl.’ Jowan smiled at her confused expression. ‘In the Tower some of the initiates had to wear these after some … petty trespasses … stealing food, snogging each other, and the like. For a day, usually, three at most. Sometimes they weren’t allowed to talk, either, depending on the colour.’

Lenkala nodded. ‘Oh. Right. And … is this colour one that allows talking, or will she write down what she wants, or do I have to guess?’

‘I may speak.’ The voice from under the cowl was that of an old woman and matched her hunched posture. ‘You may call me Constance.’ She inclined her head slightly. ‘I seek refuge here. Will you grant it?’

Cole shook himself into action. ‘No!’ He rushed towards Lenkala. ‘No. She wants … needs … Oh, I can’t.’

Lenkala’s attention was on him in an instant. ‘Cole, look at me. What’s wrong?’

‘ _She’s_ wrong. She wants to hurt.’

‘Whom?’

‘I don’t know.’

Lenka smiled, but he knew from the way she did that she was going to allow her to stay. Fear gripped him, not for him, not even for Lenka in particular, but he couldn’t say, couldn’t find the answer in her. Perhaps there wasn’t one, perhaps she was insane, perhaps she was … Perhaps he was wrong? He wasn’t a spirit any more, he might have misread. He knew what he felt, but perhaps he didn’t read that right. Lenkala’s voice came from very far away. ‘I can’t send her out into that blizzard, Cole.’

He nodded. ‘No … you can’t.’ The room was spinning. He thought he heard Lenkala call his name, but then it was all dark and silent. He was content.

 

 


	14. Promises

A feeling of guilt crept up Cole’s neck. He had awoken in the infirmary, being fussed over by one of the healers who had insisted he had to drink more and that he had to stay for five more days at least. She was right, he supposed. In both matters. But staying for five more days might well mean that he couldn’t keep his promise, so he sneaked outside after downing half a pitcher of water. He would return, but this was important.

On his way, he ran into a servant who was unfortunate enough to still be up, and asked him for a favour. The servant knew him – he had helped him find a lost piece of armour – and was happy to do what Cole asked him. Perhaps being seen wasn’t always bad. He hoped this worked out the way he meant it to. The promise he was trying to fulfil was one he’d rather not have to, but in truth, there was no hope left.

He reached Dorian unchallenged. Vivienne, who took care that he didn’t suffer too much, was not there. She would never have let him do this. Gently, he woke the mage. Understanding was on the man’s face when he saw his nightly visitor. Understanding, surrender, defeat, but no fear, neither of him nor of his imminent death.

He had done it before. Killed to take away the pain. But now was different. Then, he’d helped himself more than them, or at least, he had thought so. Also it wasn’t the right way to help. Now it might be the only one. ‘I have promised you to end your life when the time comes,’ Cole said, his voice calm. They both knew why he was there anyway, but it needed saying.

Dorian swallowed and nodded. ‘I … yes. I still want that, Cole.’

‘I know.’ The young man ran a hand through his hair. He was nervous. What if no help was coming? What if no-one could help? ‘I’ll do it. If I must. Are you willing to try something else, first?’

‘I tried magic, I tried Varric, there’s nothing left.’

Cole wasn’t so sure. He had seen something, the one thing that might still save his friend. ‘Maybe there is.’ He left Dorian’s side and walked back to the door, peering into the night. And there he was, in full armour, as if he was expecting a battle.

‘What do you want?’ The words were harsh, but the anger in the voice was faked. A shield to hide the soft flesh.

‘I need you. Dorian needs you.’

‘Dorian needs a knife in the heart.’

‘Perhaps.’ Cole fidgeted. ‘Or a hand that can pull out the shard. Mine can’t, but yours might.’

For a moment, Fenris was silent, but Cole could feel his mind changing. He didn’t want to help the mage, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate him enough to let him die. Fenris shoved him aside and strode into the room, staring down at the mage. ‘Did you send for me?’

Dorian blinked, confusion clear on his face. ‘I did,’ Cole said. ‘I saw how you killed the man in the throne room. Maybe you can save Dorian the same way.’

‘Cole … ah, he’ll get hurt. Badly. He can’t touch the red lyrium.’

‘Maybe I don’t need to.’ Fenris tilted his head. ‘Bite a cloth, mage, this will hurt. And don’t cast.’

‘I can’t, even if I want to. Never recovered from the battle, the splinter wouldn’t let me.’

‘Hold him, spirit … or whatever you are.’

Cole sat behind Dorian, straddling him. He wrapped his arms around the mage’s torso, pinning his arms to his sides. Fenris glowed, and the next moment Dorian was overwhelmed by instinct and struggling and he had to fight with all he had to keep him in place. Cole worried that he wasn’t strong enough yet, but then the struggling ceased and Dorian was boneless. There was blood, so much blood, and Fenris looked frustrated and shook his head.

‘I … am sorry. I cannot hold it.’

‘Take off the glove.’

‘You heard him.’

‘So it will hurt you. It’s killing him! You’ll recover.’ Still, he was holding Dorian, refusing to accept that he would die. The mage was bleeding profusely, but if Cole’s messenger did his work, someone else would come.

‘Look … he’ll bleed to death even if I …’

‘A healer is coming.’ Cole himself was getting soaked in blood, but that was Dorian’s smallest problem. He scrambled back to his feet and drew near the elf, staring down at him. ‘Help him, Fenris. Help him, it will hurt you, but don’t let him die. You said he doesn’t have to, back at the temple. You said it!’ His voice had risen to almost a yell.

‘Cole …’ He spun around. Rhys was standing in the door, taking in the scene, but it wasn’t he who had spoken. Dorian’s eyes were half closed, his breath shallow. He was there in an instant, taking his head into his hands and staring straight into his eyes. ‘Don’t make him do this, Cole.’

‘Would he die?’

‘No, but …’

‘Dorian, I am very sorry.’ Without a further word and as gently as he could, Cole knocked him out. He turned back to Fenris. ‘Help him.’ The elf stiffened and even Rhys in the door seemed to cringe at his tone.

‘Or what?’ Fenris ground out.

‘Or I will take what you cherish the most.’ Cole headed to the door, unable to keep anywhere near. He’d return later and either wait for Dorian to wake up or do what he had promised.

‘You’re too late. I’ve already lost that.’

Despite himself, Cole halted. His mouth twisted into a mockery of a smile. ‘Oh no. Not Hawke. Something more vital. I’ll take your freedom. I’ll take it and kill it and you will never have it again until you want nothing more than to die. And I will not end your suffering.’

Ϡ

Rhys watched Cole leave with a bemused expression. He had seen him in many different moods, but wild anger wasn’t among them. He had thought that his humanity might make him feel certain emotions more strongly than before, perhaps even a little like poor old Pharamond when he was no longer Tranquil after too long a time and unable to handle the world itself. He doubted that it would last long. ‘He won’t hurt you, you know,’ he informed Fenris. ‘It’s not … his style.’

‘He sounded determined.’ The elven warrior was pulling off his gloves and let them fall to the ground.

‘He’s intense. I know. But he’s a good kid.’

‘Kid. You and Varric call him that. He doesn’t look or act the part.’

Rhys smiled. ‘Ah … I’ve known him for a very long time. He was more like a kid then. But he certainly has grown into … something else.’ He frowned at Dorian. ‘Help him or kill him, either will do at this point.’

‘I believe Cole said he would kill him. I’ll leave that to him.’

‘You’re a bit of a coward, aren’t you?’

Fenris blinked and stared at Rhys. ‘Listen, mage …’

He made a dismissive gesture. ‘I’m not judging. I wouldn’t want to kill a friend, either.’

‘He is not my friend. He is …’

‘The evil Tevinter mage. Yes. Get on with whatever it is you intend to do or get out of my way and let me deliver the poor man.’ Rhys knew he sounded as tired as he felt. He stepped out of the way and gestured outside.

Fenris didn’t leave. Instead, he sat next to the other man, who had slipped into unconsciousness again. For a long time, he just looked at Dorian’s face, his expression unreadable. ‘Can you … dampen sound?’

Understanding the meaning of the question, Rhys stepped closer to the pair. He could, for a while, and in a limited area. He focussed and cast. ‘Now. Get on with it.’ He stepped out of the ward’s reach and watched. He watched as the lyrium lines on the elf’s skin shone in a weird blue light. He watched as his right hand sank into Dorian’s flesh. He watched as his expression changed from concentration to pure agony, a silent scream on his lips. He watched as he retreated his hand and crumpled to the floor, curled in a foetal position. The small shard of red lyrium fell from his grasp, a jagged little thing that didn’t look like a splinter at all but like a sprouted tuber. The thought was disconcerting, but then again, everything about red lyrium was. Rhys sent a silent prayer to the Maker and tried to heal Dorian again. And this time, the vicious wound on his shoulder closed, no trace of the injury left except for a dull ache that would accompany Dorian for a few days. The man would live.

Ϡ

Lenkala was woken up by a commotion outside her room. She blinked into the light coming in through her window and decided she might as well get up. The distinct noise of a row made her wonder how bad the day could go.

There were a number of things that needed doing. She needed to talk to Cole, most of all. Not only because she still owed him a thorough conversation, but also because his breakdown had her nerves in tatters. She hadn’t fallen asleep for hours last night, worried out of her wits. She also needed to know what on earth his problem with the chantry woman that had arrived was. Not that she was overly fond of the chantry as such, but his reaction had been quite extreme. She had talked to the old woman for a little while, and so far she had no reason to believe that she meant anyone any ill. Then again, Cole hadn’t been wrong so far.

The fight had broken out by two soldiers, but both decided to flee when they spotted her. In the infirmary, Lenkala ran into Rhys who had joined its staff. He approached her and told her in a few sentences that Dorian was cured and Fenris his involuntary rescuer. With that off her shoulders, Lenka went to see Cole.

She found the young man pacing his room. He jumped when she entered, looking lost and frightened. Rushing towards him, Lenkala grabbed his hands and looked up at him. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been up all night.’

‘No. I haven’t.’ He looked away, clearly wanting to say something but dreading it. ‘I … I need to go and see Dorian. I did last night, but when I came back they caught me, and now I’m being watched.’

‘Dorian? Dorian’s all right. Fenris saved him.’

‘Oh.’ He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘Good. Did you see them?’

‘No, I ran into Rhys. He didn’t tell you?’

A small smile formed on Cole’s face. ‘No. I think he wants me to worry. I … should have been calmer.’

‘Cole … ah … could you elaborate?’

‘Yes.’

Despite the situation, Lenkala had to laugh. Someone had to teach Cole semantics. Varric hadn’t got far in his attempts, that much was certain. ‘Please do.’ Again, Cole looked away. If he’d been wearing his hat right now, she knew he’d lower his head to hide his eyes behind its brim. Gently, she took his chin into her hands and stared until he met her gaze. ‘Please, Cole. Don’t you trust me?’

His lips opened and he let himself fall on his bed. ‘I went to him. I … asked Fenris to help. He didn’t want to. I …’ He swallowed and studied his hands. ‘I threatened him. I didn’t know what he did after I left. I … did not mean to frighten him, but I was so _angry_.’

‘Everyone gets angry sometimes. It doesn’t make you evil as long as you control it, and since Fenris still lives, it seems you did. He did what you told him, Rhys patched Dorian up and kept Fenris here, too. He’s still out cold and will need a bit to recover.’

‘Is Rhys mad at me?’

‘No, I don’t think he is. He said you can go if you let him visit you twice a day and check you’re fine. He reckons confining you does more harm than good.’ A smile spread on Cole’s face, and it was highly contagious. ‘Now I think I owe you a talk. Mind taking a walk with me?’

Of course, Cole didn’t mind. They ambled through Skyhold, talking mainly about the battle with Corypheus they hadn’t had time to discuss. They skirted the subject of Solas, neither of them wanting to comment on his absence.

In the end, they found themselves in the herb garden. It was usually one of the quieter places. The only relatively constant presence was Jowan, who was notably absent today. Instead, there were mother Giselle and Constance. Lenkala curled her hand around Cole’s wrist to halt him and watched them. A flag pole with the sunburst had been erected in the centre, Jowan’s pavilion suddenly held a statuette of Andraste, and three of the pots had been moved to a different spot with a lot less light. ‘Hold it just a moment,’ Lenkala said sharply once she had taken in the changes the two women had obviously made. ‘Since when is this place a chantry?’

‘You must forgive me, Inquisitor,’ Giselle said in her lilting accent.

‘I will. Once you’ve brought this in order. Get rid of the bloody statue and replace everything where it was. And I don’t want that … flag here, either. This is an herb garden.’

‘I do not see how that contradicts …’

‘Herbs need sunlight. These aren’t getting any.’ She stepped closer to the taller woman and glared. ‘I only allowed you in here because you kept my rules. Now you don’t, and I’m kicking you out of here. There’s room in the dungeon, if you must have a prayer site. But this isn’t it. I will not let the chantry … toss my salad. I can do that very well on my own.’ Giselle went beet red, with shame or anger Lenkala wasn’t sure. To make a point, she carried one of the pots back to its usual spot and Cole took care of another. ‘Get moving. Out! Both of you!’

She was still fuming when a chuckle sounded behind her. She spun, ready to yell some more. At the door, she found Leliana. ‘I see I no longer need to warn you about what these two are up to.’ Lenkala huffed. ‘I told them you wouldn’t approve, you know. And I had Constance’s background checked. After your outburst, I thought it was a good idea.’ The last bit was directed at Cole. ‘The worrying part is, I couldn’t find anything. There is no record of a sister Constance anywhere. Of course, we had a blight and a war, but most chantry records are intact with the notable exception of those of the Circle Tower. These were burnt by the mages.’

‘She’s old. Jowan should know her if she was in the Circle Tower, he might recognise her voice.’

‘Assuming she joined the chantry as a young woman. Some only become followers late in their lives. Jowan left the circle a long time ago. There is every chance he never met her. But she has no foreign accent, so she is either very good with languages, or she may come from their chantry.’ Leliana shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps … don’t antagonise her too much. She might be dangerous. If she was at the Circle, who knows what she went through?’

Lenkala looked at Cole. ‘You really think she’s a threat?’

‘I … think she wants to be.’ He looked at the door through which she and Giselle had fled. ‘I won’t let anyone hurt you.’

Lenkala saw Leliana going after the two women and decided that now was the moment. She reached for Cole’s hand and brought it to her lips. The young man’s mouth opened. He stared, a slight flush colouring his face. He cupped her cheek, a thumb caressing her gently. She placed her hand over his and smiled up at him. It struck her how tall he was, even by human standards. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. ‘Ah … Cole, I wonder … do you even know … Um.’

‘Varric told me a bit.’

‘Oh dear.’

‘I’m not clueless. I told him that, too. I watched, in the White Spire.’

‘You realise that I’m not human. What it means for me to even think about us.’

For a moment, Lenkala feared this was too vague for the very direct Cole, but he nodded. ‘Solas said elves don’t want to mix because there are so few of them. It means you can’t go back. I won’t ask that of you.’

Lenkala could see the conclusion of his train of thought even before his hand fell from her face. She stepped closer still and grabbed his shoulders. She wouldn’t let him close himself off, not now. This time she didn’t wait for him to meet her eyes. ‘You don’t need to ask for something I offer willingly.’ Her voice was quiet, hoping to quash his fear that she would turn away from him. There was awe on his face and something more primal, something that he held in check with commendable determination. She slid her hands up to cradle his neck. It would be so easy to … No, not yet. She needed to have her say first. ‘All I need you to do is … to think further than the next few hours. I offer you my future, Cole. And I need you to think very carefully what you would do with that, if you had it because you can either have all of it or nothing. There can be no in between, not for me.’

‘But I know …’

Lenkala placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. ‘You want me, Cole. I know that. And I trust you to know yourself. But you’ve only started to feel this way very recently. Please explore why I am the focus of that feeling, and if there’s more to it than that. Search yourself for that answer, and then tell me. I’ll do the same for you. Is that all right?’

Cole’s expression was solemn and warm and a part of her felt that she was doing him an injustice by not just jumping in at the deep end. But it seemed that he understood, as he always did. ‘Yes.’

Standing on her toes, Lenkala brushed her lips over Cole’s. ‘Thank you.’ Tearing herself away, Lenkala hurried back inside. When she glanced back to the pavilion, Cole still stood there, rooted to the spot, his fingertips on his lips.


	15. Purgatory

Eyes glued shut, the unpleasant feeling of a thousand needles piercing his skin … slowly turning into fire running up and down his body, everywhere, merciless. A groan escaped Fenris’s lips and he tried to sit up.

Someone held him down with very little effort. ‘No, don’t do that. Stay.’ The voice was soothing, kind even. ‘You’re all right. Just need time.’ The hands keeping him on his bed were actually not hands but fingers, placed between the lyrium lines, careful not to touch them. He forced his eyes open. There was visible concern on Dorian’s face.

Fenris wanted to shove the man away, but he didn’t have the strength. ‘You are alive,’ he said instead.

‘Yes, indeed. Thanks to you. That thing you pulled out of me, by the way, had started to grow. I … don’t know how to thank you, Fenris.’

‘Don’t.’ Unable to keep his eyes open, he allowed them to close. ‘I … wonder if there is something that can be done about the pain.’ He wasn’t someone who usually complained about discomfort, but this … Every single line of lyrium in his skin was firing. He’d had that before, occasionally. Danarius had done something to them once in a while to stop the pain … but he didn’t know what. That aside, compared to what he felt now, that occasional discomfort was nothing.

‘I tried to read about these … markings. Not that there is much available, seeing how you’re rather unique. But I guess they generally hurt when touched?’ Fenris grunted agreement. He really didn’t want to discuss this with anyone, let alone a Tevinter mage. ‘So for that general pain I think I can work something out, if you are willing to let me. For what you are going through now … I don’t think so.’ He turned his head away, torn between disappointment and relief that the mage wasn’t going to cast anything on him. ‘I … might even be able to free you of your lyrium. But that would take a lot of time and careful testing … and it could go horribly wrong, I suppose.’

The words, their delivery, all of it, cut through Fenris’s mind like a blade. ‘I am not your experiment, magister!’ He managed to sit up now, but his head swam and he might have fallen off the bed if it hadn’t been for Dorian’s fast reaction.

The mage drew a sharp breath when he caught him, his own injury apparently protesting. ‘Fenris, please calm down. I wasn’t saying … I shouldn’t … Stop struggling, you’re only succeeding in hurting yourself. I won’t do anything you don’t want!’

‘Liar! You’re all the same.’

‘I am _not_ a magister. And I’ve been disowned because I’m not like the rest of them.’

Fenris was going to retort, but then he frowned. ‘What?’

‘Oh, I could get back in my family’s good graces, but I don’t think I’ll ever be willing to make the necessary sacrifices.’

‘And here I thought it was because you had convictions that contradicted the Imperium. I see that it’s really just narcissism. Figures.’

Dorian let go of him when it became clear he wasn’t going to fight anymore. ‘Call it what you will. You need to recover. When you have, I think Varric has more red lyrium for us to get rid of.’

‘One would think you’re done.’

‘One would think so are you.’

‘I didn’t say I’d come.’

‘You didn’t say you wouldn’t.’

Fenris had to fight the smile that tried to sneak onto his face. He must have been drugged by the healers. ‘I might. For Varric.’

‘I’ll leave you for now. But I’ll be back.’

‘I feared as much.’

‘If there is anything you want …’

‘Peace and quiet.’

Dorian inclined his head. ‘And you’ll have it. I meant what I said. I … wouldn’t try to coax you into anything you don’t wish.’

The strangest part was that Fenris believed him. Oh, sure, Dorian’s interest to help him was at least in part scientific. But he was nothing like Danarius. Not truly. Dorian’s gratitude seemed as genuine as his compassion. Neither was expected, and Fenris found that neither should be welcome. This man was everything he hated, he was the enemy. And yet … ‘I might … in fact want to know how you propose to stop the pain. Eventually. But I want to keep the markings. They are my strongest weapon.’

‘Indeed.’ Dorian seemed to want to pat his shoulder but thought better of it. ‘I’ll be back, Fenris. I don’t forget people who save my life.’

Ϡ

Cole knew that Rhys would come to check on him, and he was honestly worried. The mage had seen his less than perfect control, he must think Cole was slipping. The worst part was that Cole himself thought he might be slipping. He couldn’t hurt anyone, he had to be stopped … by someone else, if he himself wasn’t able.

When Rhys came, he had to force himself not to fidget. He wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything and remained silent, letting Rhys look at his eyes, pinch the skin on the back of his hand, and cast some sort of spell he couldn’t even feel. ‘Well … physically, you’re better. But you’re not kidding me. What’s wrong?’

‘I am tired.’

The disappointment on Rhys’s face ached. ‘Yes, you would be. But that’s not what I meant, and you know it. I thought you trust me.’

He swallowed and turned away. Another thing he felt guilt about: hurting Rhys. ‘I … Rhys, I … You should go. I’m not worth it.’

‘Hey.’ A gentle hand on his shoulder turned him back around. ‘Hey, Cole. Don’t ever say that again. Better yet, don’t even think it. Now please talk to me, my friend.’

Cole sat on his bed and hid his face behind his hands. ‘I think I am dangerous.’ He could hardly hear the words himself, but Rhys had heard. The mage sighed and sat next to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. The touch gave him comfort and he leaned in, realising how much he had missed Rhys.

The mage’s voice was soft when he answered, little more than a whisper. ‘Yes, Cole, you are dangerous. So am I. So is Evangeline. Everyone has the potential to be dangerous. But people generally control their baser emotions.’

‘I shouldn’t have to! I never had to.’

‘Ah … the joys of being human. Cole, you remember Pharamond, I take it?’

Of course he did. ‘That was different. He didn’t threaten anyone!’

‘No. But he had no control. He went from crying to laughing and back at the smallest input. For Pharamond it was so difficult because he’d been Tranquil most of his rather long life. You are so young, Cole, it will be easy for you to adapt, even if it doesn’t seem that way right now. You were a spirit before, the embodiment of one emotion. Now you’re getting the entire array of a human to deal with. You’re holding up the way you are because you’ve sensed others like that for a long time, you learned what these emotions do, even though they weren’t your own. The only thing that is new for you is experiencing them yourself. All of them, including those that are the essence of demons. Rage. Fear. Despair. Hunger. Desire. But they’re not all you feel. You’re still gentle and compassionate. You’re still you, Cole. And that you are human means you always will be. You will never be a demon. And knowing you, I daresay you will never be a bad man.’

Cole looked at Rhys, still uncertain. ‘But … I wanted to hurt Fenris. I truly wanted to.’

‘Because you care about Dorian, and Fenris was willing to let him die. It gets easier, Cole. Every human being goes through it, you just have to do it now rather than as a kid. You’re doing great. Maybe you wanted to hurt Fenris, but the important thing is that you didn’t do it. And even if Dorian had died, I do believe that you’d have known hurting Fenris in turn is wrong.’

‘The Nightmare in the Fade said we’re alike. He was right. What I did was the same. I took Fenris’s greatest fear and used it against him.’

‘No.’ Rhys’s voice was infinitely patient and full of conviction. ‘You just used words, not mind control to make Fenris fear for his life. Or his freedom, as it were. There’s a huge difference.’

‘I … also … Rhys, I don’t know how to say this.’

‘Straight forward seems to work often, Cole.’

‘You said something else, too. I … earlier today, I felt …’ He faltered, unable to say the word, to invoke the name of a demon. But his sudden shifting away slightly, the colouring of his face, the way he licked his lips gave him away.

Rhys chuckled. ‘Desire, Cole? It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It can be, without control. If you are spurned, would you still act on your desire?’

Cole tilted his head. ‘I don’t understand.’

Rhys smile widened. ‘Here you are, a brilliant mind, but so benevolent you don’t even know what I implied because the concept is absolutely foreign to you. Would you take the one you want if she rejects you? Rape her?’

Cole was on his feet, staring at Rhys as if he were a stranger. ‘No! Why would you even ask? I could never … I wouldn’t hurt her! Not at all and never like that!’

Rhys laughed, adding to Cole’s dismay and irritation. ‘What exactly are you afraid of, Cole? You care about her. And you want her, too. I want Angie, but I’m not possessed. It’s human. You’re fully entitled to have wet dreams about the Inquisitor. I bet you she has them about you, too.’

Cole felt his cheeks go hot. He shouldn’t want to think of Lenka that way … But he couldn’t stop it. The images in his head were hard to force away, and with Rhys evoking them it was even more difficult. ‘I love her.’ And it was true. He did. He wasn’t sure if she would believe him, but the simple fact of the matter was that while lust played into it, it wasn’t what drove him. ‘She’s scared … to be hurt.’

‘She’s Dalish, Cole. Be patient with her.’

Nodding, Cole sat back down. ‘I am. I need to convince her that I won’t hurt her. How do I do that?’

Rhys patted his shoulder. ‘Be yourself. She seems to like that. I believe what Lavellan needs to know is that her sacrificing the possibility to return to any Dalish clan ever again is actually worth it. It’s easy to say you love someone.’

‘In the White Spire, one man said it seven times. To seven different women.’

‘Exactly what I mean. Be certain.’

‘I am.’

‘Good. Next ask yourself why and then tell her. And speaking of desire … It comes from your love for her. That’s the important thing. You don’t just want to bed her because she’s beautiful. You care. And you care so much that you want to express that physically.’

‘How is Dorian?’

‘He’s all right. He’s been talking to Fenris earlier. They were both quite civil, so I left before they heard me. You did a good thing there, Cole.’

Ϡ

Zevran dodged one attack, only to feel the blunt weapon impact on his shins. He’d clearly underestimated the sheer speed of his opponent. ‘Ah, but you do go after your father. I yield!’

Darya let out a triumphant whoop, but sobered quickly. ‘I want to fight like him. Not just play.’

Zevran had learned long ago that Darya, despite her young age, knew exactly what she wanted, so he didn’t dismiss that request. ‘I cannot teach you that. I’m not a warrior.’ He sat down on one of the benches surrounding the training area, one leg tucked under him and turned to look at the girl next to him. She was tall for her age, gangly and powerful. She could climb a rope without using her legs, which was unusual for a mage.

‘Daddy said you taught him.’

‘The basics of sword fighting. Yes. But the finer techniques he learned from Justice. I cannot train you to be a warrior.’

‘I know. But I don’t even know basics.’

‘You’re fast enough to learn real fighting, if you truly want to.’ He didn’t need to ask Jowan or Leliana for permission. They wouldn’t object. ‘But if that is what we do now, then you can’t say you want to skip a lesson. We have to do this every day, and one day I won’t be able to keep teaching you. We’ll find someone else, though. A warrior.’

‘Blackwall!’

Zevran chuckled and ruffled her hair. ‘Well, there’s a chance he’ll come back to Vigil’s Keep with us eventually, so that sounds reasonable.’

‘Can we start now?’

‘You’re already tired now. Tomorrow, right after breakfast. Here. Don’t be late.’ He expected a cheer, or at least some reaction. But Darya had frozen, as if what she’d wanted to say had suddenly fled her mind, eyes fixed on nothing. ‘Darya? Darya!’ Zevran slipped to the ground, kneeling in front of her. He took her face in his hands, trying to get a reaction. None came, and he patted her cheek lightly, still to no avail. With nothing else to do, he scooped the girl into his arms and considered if he should run to Jowan or the infirmary. He decided on the latter, using the time it took him to get there to consider what poisons could cause her to zone out like that.

He found no answer, but it didn’t seem as if he had to. The moment he crashed inside, she blinked. The confusion of being elsewhere and his palpable alarm brought tears to her eyes, and Zevran set her down, waving the first approaching healer away. ‘Hello. Welcome back.’ He tried to sound confident and seemed to succeed, because she calmed quickly. ‘You just had a moment of … I’m not sure what. I don’t assume you remember how you got here?’

Darya looked left and right as if checking if anyone was present. ‘I wasn’t here. I was in a strange place in the woods. In a hut. I was talking to someone.’

This sounded awfully familiar. Before he had taken his life, Alistair had heard voices, channelling Darya as he would have an Archdemon. But technically, Darya _was_ an Old God, and she certainly was not a Grey Warden. Whom would she channel? ‘What did you say?’

‘I don’t remember … It’s as if it happened ages ago.’ She looked at him with such worry he wanted to hug her. ‘Am I dying, Uncle Zev?’

He did hug her then. ‘You’re not dying. I’ve heard more terrifying things than that.’

Darya looked slightly incredulous. ‘Like what?’

‘Like being trapped in a magical cage by monsters. Like being bitten by a werewolf and having your mind go. Like having all you are, all that makes you a person being taken from you, turning you into a shell. You know people who are very alive after going through that. Cullen was taken captive by a powerful abomination. Núria was under a curse, but we lifted it in time. And your daddy … well, he was once Tranquil.’ Now Jowan might object to that revelation, but in the end, it wasn’t a secret.

‘Why didn’t he want me to become Tranquil when I asked, then?’

‘Because he knows it’s a horrible fate and it was forced on him. Darya, it’s not an option.’

‘But what if this moment now means I am possessed?’

‘Then we’ll undo it. Jowan’s done that, too. With a child about your age, no less.’

‘What didn’t you all do?’

Zevran laughed. ‘I’ll tell you what we didn’t do: Give up. You want to learn from us? Learn that. And tell Jowan that I think it’s time we all level with you here. Greagoir thought you’re old enough for the Harrowing … I say you’re old enough for the truth. All of it. I think he agrees. But first, we’ll have a chat with the healers. All right?’

She nodded solemnly. ‘All right.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Here’s the deal. I don’t know how old Connor is in Origins because it’s never said. I also don’t know exactly how old Darya is, and I don’t want to give a precise age lest I mess that up. So yeah … not going to happen. But they should be roughly the same, no?))  
>  


	16. Und als ihr Spiel begann hielt ich den Atem an

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((This chapter heading is two lines of the song Klavier (German for piano). It would translate into ‘As she started playing I held my breath’. The song is rather sick, by the way, but brilliant.))

Cole looked down at the people in the courtyard, trying to define a frightening development. He watched Blackwall and wanted to hurt him. He had no reason. None at all. Closing his eyes, Cole tried to find the source of the emotion. It wasn’t his own. Or was it?

His own … but not from him?

The conclusion was all he needed. He would not become anyone’s tool. Perhaps the fact of what he was made him more susceptible. Or … not? A slow smile stole onto Cole’s face. In fact, it was how he knew. A human who had never been anything else wouldn’t know that they were being influenced. But Cole knew. Cole knew it was … something that hadn’t been there before. He glanced at Blackwall again. They had fought back to back since they’d first met him in the Hinterlands. He had been sceptical about Cole at first, but that had changed, he thought that Blackwall was one of those who genuinely liked him. And he liked the Warden – he was that, he had taken this identity and lived it – as well. The man had saved Lenka’s life more than once, throwing himself into harm’s way for her.

The sparring below him ended abruptly with Blackwall’s opponent on his back. A bark of laughter came up to Cole and Blackwall offered his hand to pull the other to his feet again. His gaze found the young man up above and a smile broke on his face. He waved.

Cole shivered as if someone had dropped ice into his collar. Whatever spell he had been under lifted and he smiled back before he hopped down to the path behind him. This was dangerous. Not so much for him, but those who didn’t have his defences.

Cole found his suspect in the portion of the dungeons to which Lenka had restricted the Chantry. They had transformed the place into a site for prayer. The broken parts of the structure were fenced off, the intact ones decorated with drapes and images you would find in an ordinary Chantry. Not for the first time, Cole wondered if he believed in the Maker. He wasn’t certain. ‘Do you seek guidance?’

Cole jumped at the soft voice of the old chantry woman. ‘I was looking for you,’ he said. His voice echoed in the cavernous place. ‘You tried to hurt Blackwall through me. Why?’

‘I do not wish to harm anyone. That accusation is ridiculous.’

‘Perhaps you don’t mean to.’ He tilted his head, wondering if the cowl was to protect her or them. He sensed her more strongly than any others. Since he had become human, he had never read anyone so easily. ‘So far back … the taste of fear and steel …’ He squinted and took a step closer, causing the woman to back into the wall. ‘You are not what you used to be … you were faith and love and the warmth of a hand under the eclipse. But you lost your way. Let me help you.’

‘I don’t need your help, demon!’ Suddenly her voice was shrill, cutting him like a knife.

‘I am not a demon. You know that. You are doubt. Perhaps you are a demon or hold one inside you.’ Her hand collided painfully with Cole’s cheek. He stumbled, taken by surprise. ‘I forgive you,’ he said, his voice still gentle. ‘Find me if you want my help. But I will not let you hurt someone. I will kill you if someone dies because of you.’

Ϡ

After defeating Corypheus, Lenkala had thought she would have time to contemplate the future of the Inquisition, perhaps spend time with Cole and find out what the future held for them. But right now, it seemed, she had to break up minor squabbles all over the place between people who usually got along quite well. As of late, the minor squabbles were turning into something altogether more sinister. The fight that had broken out in the hall between Dorian and Vivienne should have been an indicator that something was going horribly wrong. Now she had to deal with a piece of paper demanding her to decide between two people, to force one to leave or lose the other.

She had read it three times over. First she had thought she’d misunderstood. Then she thought it was forged. Now, however, it struck her that it must be true: Josephine told her in no uncertain terms that unless she sent Jowan away, Leliana would walk. It made no sense.

Lenkala was torn between ignoring both letter and message, and sitting them both down and telling them to get a grip. After reading the note, Lenkala had tried to find rumours. She didn’t like what she heard. Apparently there had been an altercation. About what no-one knew or dared to say. Seeing how they might draw the wrath of either the spymaster or a blood mage the reluctance to speak of the incident was understandable, if annoying.

There was nothing else to do. Lenkala found Leliana at her usual place above the library. She looked all right, as if nothing had happened. Perhaps it was a prank, after all. ‘Ah, Leliana?’

The bard looked up from her writing. ‘Inquisitor … is this very urgent? I need to settle a few things.’

‘Like who gets to take care of Darya?’

The open expression slipped from Leliana’s face like a mask. ‘That will be I, of course. Jowan thinks that a promise he made a decade ago means he can take her away from me, but that won’t happen. It would be perfect for him. He could go and tell everyone how he was right in saying I don’t care for her.’

Lenkala blinked. She had never heard so much spite in Leliana’s voice. ‘Ah … look …’

‘Have you sent him away yet?’

‘It’s not that simple, Leliana. I … will not decide this so harshly.’

‘Be quick. If he isn’t gone by the day after tomorrow you lose me and all my connections.’

‘Don’t threaten me.’

‘This man seeks to destroy Darya’s faith in everything we taught her.’

‘What exactly happened? If you could tell me that, perhaps I can help.’

‘He wants to tell her who her parents are and that she is in fact a God.’ Lenkala knew all this. After Jowan’s revelation that he had travelled by a false name, she had cornered the bard and managed to get the truth out of her. It was a mark of how much trust there was between them. But now, she was facing a stranger, a woman full of venom. Leliana stood abruptly. ‘It’s getting late. I am waiting for your answer.’

Lost for words, Lenkala stared after her. What she needed was to talk to Cole. Perhaps he had some insight into what was going on here. But he was difficult to find at the moment. For someone who could no longer cover his tracks as he used to, he was getting pretty good at it. Blackwall had seen him a while before, Dorian had talked to him today. She didn’t mind him taking his time with his self-searching, but right now, she needed him if she wanted to do the right thing here. Perhaps she should do what she’d done before he had become human: put out word that she looked for him and wait, hoping he’d be there in time.

Ϡ

The place Leliana found herself in was unfamiliar, the foot of a small hill out in the green. On its top stood a mansion, resembling a house Lenkala had described to her after one trip out of Skyhold. But Leliana had a feeling this wasn’t the same place.

Something drew her to the house. As if controlled by something or someone else, Leliana made her way up the winding path. Her mind was reeling at the thought, but the compulsion to keep moving was stronger. A shaking hand pulled open the door.

The stench of blood and death assaulted Leliana’s senses, making her gag. She stepped back outside, taking a few steadying breaths and steeling herself. The bard entered the house again, leaving the door open to let in some fresh air.

The smell was explained by a rotting corpse nailed to one wall, hands and head severed and lying beneath it. It was certainly not fresh, but Leliana wouldn’t investigate just how unfresh it was.

Other than that, the place turned out to be a labyrinthine structure with narrow corridors and long, angled rooms. There were bodies in various states of decay and so much blood on the wall. Fighting her repulsion, she approached one of the patterns and touched it. It was sticky. At least this part of the decoration had been done more or less recently.

The patterns turned into words of the chant. ‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,’ she whispered, reading the words aloud to chase away the silence of death. ‘Foul and corrupt,’ it said down another corridor. Leliana decided to follow this particular verse. The words ‘They shall be named Maleficar,’ stirred dread in her gut, and she stopped abruptly. She shuddered as if she’d been doused with cold water, an ominous feeling shattering her composure into a thousand pieces. She had been revolted before, but now animal fear was driving her. Her heart was racing and she knew she didn’t want to reach the end of her journey. A voice in her mind told her what she’d find, and she didn’t want to … desperately didn’t want to, wouldn’t be able to cope. But on she went, skidding to a halt at a double-winged door. The last two lines of the verse were written on them: ‘They shall find no rest in this world Or beyond.’ Again she spoke out loud, and the door opened for her.

The room behind it was dark and high roofed. It was, in fact, a chantry. But there was no altar. Instead, there was a hook like a butcher’s up on the wall at the far end. A man with his wrists tied together hung from it, head fallen to his chest. His feet hovered a foot above the floor.

Leliana’s breath caught. Still unable to stop, she approached, taking in every detail even though she wanted to close her eyes and run away as fast and as far as she could. They – whoever that was – had not just killed him. They had cut him open from directly under his breastbone down to his groin, his innards spilling out like a grotesque skirt covering his front. ‘No,’ she breathed, her fear turning into calm certainty. She knew who he was even from here, but she had to see. The compulsion had lifted. Now she was torn between the need for closure and denial fighting for dominance. Her hand, steady now, reached out to tilt the dead man’s head up, revealing his face. Cool hands grabbed her arms and shook her.

Leliana awoke drenched in sweat and with a scream. ‘Be calm! Leliana … please.’ The hands were still holding her firmly, but they weren’t those of a dead man. Pale blue eyes were looking at her with deep concern, the vice-like grip relinquishing her when recognition kicked in and she stopped struggling.

‘C…Cole?’ Her voice was shaking, she felt frozen and too confused to wonder why he was in her room. ‘This … wasn’t a dream, I know it was more.’ She did know that for certain. The stench of decay and torn guts was still in her nose, torturing her mind with the terror of what she had seen.

‘More. And less. It was not real, though.’

‘How do you know?’ She hardly recognised her own voice, too high and too shrill. ‘Oh, Jowan … Maker, if he left and was taken …’

‘He did not leave, not yet. He is in the room below yours, sleeping between memories.’ Leliana bolted from the room, nearly tripping over the long nightgown. She crashed into a guard but didn’t care, only one thought on her mind. She reached the room Cole had told her and hesitated. What if there was no-one there, just an empty room? Swallowing, Leliana tried to open the door. It wasn’t even locked, but there might be a ward. If so, she wouldn’t notice. Jowan’s wards weren’t the noisy kind.

The figure on the bed was turned away from her, but she knew him from here. She also saw he was breathing. ‘Jowan?’ she whispered into the night, closing the door behind her. If there was a ward, he was pretending to be asleep, but somehow she thought there wasn’t one. Tears brimming in her eyes, she approached him and sat on the side of his bed. Unable to stop herself, Leliana brushed his hair back, revealing his face. ‘Jowan, wake up.’

One eye drifted open, then he sat up with a start. His chest was bare – and reassuringly intact. ‘What? Did something happen?’

She knew she must look as if she’d seen a ghost. ‘Maker,’ was all she managed, hands reaching out on their own account, feeling the soft, firm skin of his shoulders, full of life.

Jowan pulled away and passed his hand over a number of candles on his night stand. They all lit up at the same time, casting him into a vivid light. ‘I … am not sure what to say.’ He sounded so sad, but the fury from earlier still lingered on his face. She felt her lower lip tremble and turned away, fighting for composure, perhaps even for the anger of a few hours ago. All would be better than this helplessness. Slowly, she calmed and wiped over her eyes.

‘Sorry for waking you like that,’ she managed.           

Jowan snorted. ‘I’m confused. Are you trying to manipulate me with doe-eyes and a few tears? It’s not working.’

Leliana shuddered. ‘I … had a horrible dream … or vision. You were … ah … dead.’

‘I’m not,’ he told her. ‘And last I heard, that kind of thing was called wishful thinking. Now … you know, I’d like to get some sleep, if I can.’

Leliana nodded. The remark hurt, but perhaps she deserved it. ‘Yes. Good night.’ She was almost at the door when Jowan spoke again.

‘I _will_ tell Darya the truth, Leliana. Even if you hate me for it. She already knows that she’s different to other mages, and that won’t change. It’ll get more and more obvious, and I refuse to lie to her. We agreed on that years ago. I don’t know why that changed for you, but I will not back down. Not in this. You’ll have to accept that, one way or another.’

This was what they’d fought about, claws and teeth. Leliana still thought Darya was too young, but she no longer felt the wild rage that had filled her before. She turned and watched Jowan’s face. His expression was set, even if he looked as though these words had cost him a lot. She offered him a nod. ‘Yes.’

‘And I will take her with me. She needs a mage. She needs someone who knows what she is, and I will not leave her in a half stranger’s hands.’

‘No.’ She knew she sounded foolish, but right now, Leliana had no idea what to say. Perhaps a first since she’d started to speak. ‘Where is she now?’

‘Next room with a ward.’

Leliana nodded again. Her eyes were fixed on his, the storm-coloured irides barely visible in the semi-darkness. ‘Take very good care of her, Jowan. And of yourself.’

The mage opened his mouth, then flinched as if someone had clubbed him on the head. For a few seconds he stared at her as if seeing her the first time. ‘I … Maker’s breath.’ He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. ‘Ah … Look. What I said to you … I know it’s not true. You love Darya, and I never doubted that, not really.’ He looked confused, more than when she’d first woken him up. ‘I don’t know why I’d say anything else. You didn’t want me to go to the Circle to find her because you thought she was dead already, not because you don’t care. And … to be honest, I didn’t believe I’d find anything more than ashes.’

‘For what it’s worth, I’m glad you went. You saved her life.’ Their eyes were still locked. ‘You know … I didn’t mean it either. What I said to you.’

A minute smile tugged at the corner of Jowan’s mouth. ‘Well, at least you were accurate when you called me a maleficar.’

‘I _hate_ that word! It’s making you sound like a monster. Or Morrigan, or Anders, the poor dear!’

‘Easy. Don’t bite your own head off now you’re done with mine.’

‘Don’t joke, Jowan. I … am trying to deal with this. I never thought I’d lose you. And how will we tell Darya that you’re leaving because I said you have to go?’

Jowan licked his lips and rose. He walked over to her and leaned against the door. ‘I think your words were, “Go to the void and never come back”,’ Jowan helped out, and she cringed. ‘The question is … do I have to go, Liana? You don’t look too happy about that now. You seem glad that I’m alive, and I think if I’d already left, you’d have someone chasing me to see if I’m all right.’

‘Not quite.’ Leliana managed to school her tone into one of indifference. But Jowan had known her way too long and too well to be fooled, his eyes crinkling into a smile. ‘I’d chase you myself and kiss you senseless once I found you alive and well. I love you, Jowan. What in the name of the Maker happened earlier today?’

‘I’m wondering about that myself … I lost it, you lost it, and we nearly destroyed something very beautiful.’ The mage opened his arms wide and Leliana let him embrace her, enjoying his warmth. She pressed her head against his chest, hearing the steady heartbeat. Jowan sighed, all traces of tension bleeding out of him. ‘Let’s go to sleep, hm? It’s been an awfully long day. Awful being the emphasised word.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Don’t ask where that came from. There I was planning something entirely different – that needs doing later, then – and even had a chapter heading in advance. This one, in fact, only minutely different with the subject and object exchanged. And then we were performing Ariel Ramírez’s Misa Criolla a day before writing this, and at some point during the Credo I had that horrible thought of how fragile humans are, really, and couldn’t stop my mind from going exactly to what happens in Leliana’s vision. Now why would the very cheerful Misa Criolla inspire something like this? I haven’t the faintest idea.))


	17. Falls to Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is an R.E.M. song that makes sense if you squint and look around three corners.))

The conversation had gone better than Núria would have expected. Jowan had asked her and Zevran to be there when they talked to Darya about … well, everything. Zevran had spilled some of it, and the mage had decided it was time the truth came out. As far as Núria was aware, that had always been the plan. Now they had told her all about blights, the cost of their end, and how the last time, the price wasn’t paid. And how Darya was the daughter of the dead King and a witch of the wilds. That last had given her pause, but Jowan and Leliana had told her, quite firmly, that in every way that counted, Darya was their daughter.

And in fact, she wasn’t anymore Morrigan and Alistair’s. Only her appearance reminded Núria more of her mother with every year. The being that had shared the body with Urthemiel’s soul had been excised a long time ago. They had revealed this as well: That she was, in essence, an Old God. Like Leliana, Núria wondered if it was wise to tell such a young girl that. But in the end, it wasn’t her decision, and one day it would be necessary.

They impressed on Darya that she couldn’t tell anyone this, but that if she needed to talk she could approach any of them.

Darya had listened to this with incredible patience and now looked from one to the other. ‘Why do you tell me now?’ Perhaps it was Núria’s imagination, but under the surface, the girl seemed angry. If at the facts themselves or the time and manner in which she’d learned them she couldn’t tell.

‘Because we never wanted to keep any of this from you,’ Leliana said gently. ‘When you went to the Tower you were too young. But now your magic is developing into something so different to anything we’ve seen. It’s clear to us that you need to know why.’

‘And why did I pass out?’

This time it was Jowan who answered. ‘We’re not sure. Scratch that. We have no idea. But I ask you that if this happens again, you tell me afterwards. The more I know, the more likely I can figure it out.’

‘Is there anything we can do for you?’ Zevran asked.

‘Yes. I want you to make me Tranquil.’

Jowan closed his eyes in evident pain and said nothing.

‘No.’ Leliana’s answer was short and calm, but knowing the bard, she was everything but on the inside. The woman had excellent control.

‘Why not? Every other mage has that right!’

‘For the same reasons Greagoir said no before,’ Jowan explained.

‘I’m not too young! He didn’t think I was too young for the Harrowing.’

 Jowan shook his head. ‘He was an old man who panicked. I’m glad that it never came to that, either. Because you _are_ too young. I’m sorry, darling, but you just can’t make that kind of decision.’

Darya stood up abruptly, glaring at Jowan and Leliana. ‘I could hurt someone! I hurt Alistair.’

‘Alistair hurt himself,’ Zevran said quickly. ‘He chose what he did, and I don’t blame him for killing himself before he was completely barmy. What I do blame him for, and I could kill him all over for that, is making you feel guilty. A young mage, even a perfectly normal one, has no control over what they do. Sometimes people get hurt, and often the young mage is murdered by an angry mob as a consequence. That is the real injustice.’

Núria smiled. ‘You sound like Anders. But you’re right. Darya … this isn’t an option. I’ve known you from when you were a baby, and I tell you you’re no more dangerous than any other mage. This isn’t going to happen.’

‘Apart from us refusing, there is no way we could make you Tranquil,’ Leliana explained. ‘We don’t have too much Lyrium, and I very much doubt that Lenkala would allow sacrificing it for … this.’

‘But you have Templars, they know how. They might do it anyway.’

Zevran snorted. ‘And face Lenkala’s wrath? I don’t think so.’ He leaned forwards. ‘Look at me, Darya.’ The girl did, frustration clear on her face. ‘You will not be Tranquil. Your father can tell you a little something about unconventional magic. Different to yours, I’d think, but still something very unusual.’

‘His sword fighting?’

‘Not just that. All of it. Watch him, and watch other mages. Even I see it. What I mean, Darya, is that unconventional doesn’t mean uncontrollable. There is no reason to make you Tranquil.’

‘But if …’

Núria shook her head. ‘Darya … I met Jowan a very long time ago, long before you were born. He was in a dungeon then, it was during the blight, you see, everyone was a bit paranoid.’

‘That’s one way to sum that up,’ Jowan muttered.

Núria shot him a grin. ‘I’ll leave the details to you, but not for now. At any rate, I let him out of his cell and he helped me save a life and an entire village. When he was done, he was sent to the Circle and they made him Tranquil. Zev told you that bit. I met him again later and I … cannot begin to tell you how horrible that was, even though we hadn’t even talked that much before. To meet someone you’ve known, only they’re not them anymore. They look like them, but when they talk, there’s nothing in there. Imagine that. You were in the library, you met the Tranquil up there, Helisma. Imagine it’s him, standing at that table and not giving a damn. Not about the research, not about Leliana, not about you.’

‘But how do you know she doesn’t?’ The girl’s voice was very quiet.

Leliana put an arm around her. ‘You’re scaring her, Núria.’ The bard didn’t sound overly worked up over that.

‘Good, that’s the plan. I don’t know the workings behind it. I guess if you want to know more, Cassandra’s your best bet. But that’s the thing about the Tranquil. They don’t feel anything, and we know that for a fact. If you do this, Darya, none of us will mean anything to you anymore. Put bluntly, you will cease to love your parents. Completely.’

A small smile played on Zevran’s face. ‘I think you’ve made your point, _amora_.’

Darya was clutching at Leliana, very close to tears, but still holding up. ‘Is that true?’ The question was directed at Jowan.

‘Yes. Aisling was broken up over what I’d become. She cried bitter tears, trying to … coax something out of me, although she knew better. It meant nothing to me.’

‘I don’t want you to cry.’

‘But we would,’ Leliana said, running her hand through Darya’s hair. ‘Promise us not to go behind our backs. Trust us. You know the whole truth now, and I know you suspected a bit of it, or at least that there was something more. Please, please, trust us, and don’t do this to us.’

‘I promise.’

Jowan closed his eyes in relief, while Leliana hugged Darya close and silently mouthed, ‘Thank you,’ at Núria.

Ϡ

Watching Skyhold’s inhabitants had changed from mildly entertaining to dull and from there to rather frightening. Something was happening, a sense of unease hung in the air. Fenris felt it keenly and wondered what might cause it.

His suspicions included the mages and Cole, but some of them had also suffered spells of utter stupidity. Fenris had witnessed two of these altercations that seemed to come with little or no provocation. One of them had only ended without blood because he’d stepped between. That had happened on his first day out of the infirmary, so it had been quite an effort to keep Varric and Cassandra from murdering each other. Now Varric was in front of him in the tavern, looking angry. At what, Fenris was determined to find out.

‘It’s stupid,’ the dwarf said without preamble. ‘Utterly idiotic. Only I can do that sort of thing.’

‘Are you talking to me or the beer?’

The ghost of a smile appeared on Varric’s face. ‘You. Sorry. She’s going to leave in three days.’

Ah. Yes, of course. ‘She has to. I thought you would be relieved.’

Varric banged his fist on the table in an uncharacteristical outburst. ‘I’m damn well not! She’s going to be Divine, and that’s great of course, but … Ah. Blessed Andraste, I’m such an idiot.’

Fenris tried not to smirk too obviously. ‘Perhaps you should apologise. Although I wouldn’t know how to apologise for attempted murder. Ah, you can give it a try anyway.’

Varric positively glowered at Fenris. ‘That’s coming from you of all people. You’ve got nerve, Broody.’

‘Varric …’

‘I know. I did. And she accepted it. Ah, never mind.’

‘Varric.’

‘What?’ The dwarf took a deep drink from his mug.

‘You’re pining.’

Varric nearly choked. He put his mug down and pointed an angry finger at Fenris. ‘I’m not. That would be ridiculous.’

That smirk was impossible to hide now. ‘Admit it. To yourself at least. Then get drunk and forget her.’

‘Ah, Fenris, the expert on a nice, functional relationship has spoken.’

Fenris frowned. ‘On second thought, I think maybe you’ve had enough.’

Varric buried his face in his hands. ‘Sorry … that was … horrible. I just don’t know what got into me.’

‘Perhaps Cole?’

‘Cole?’ Varric looked up again and burst into humourless laughter. Fenris waited patiently until he was done. He hadn’t had that much to drink, not enough to warrant that kind of mood swing. He must have it bad. ‘Cole … nah. The kid’s been all antsy about it. I trust him. He’s a good lad.’

‘You said the same about Anders.’

Varric leaned forward. ‘Did you know Anders wasn’t Anders?’

‘I heard something like it, but that’s hardly the point. You trust too easily.’

‘Perhaps.’ Varric shook his head. ‘Well and you? I don’t think I can stay seated here and … wait. I don’t want to leave the Inquisition right now either. There’s something coming up, and when I’m needed, I want to be within a sensible range.’

‘Are you asking me to help you find more red lyrium?’

‘What if I am?’

‘I’ll say bring it on.’

‘Dorian’s coming. Just … so you know.’

‘I figured he would. There are worse.’

‘Oh?’

Fenris growled. ‘Don’t.’

Varric smirked. It looked very smug and annoying, but probably no more so than Fenris before. He made a face. ‘All right,’ Varric allowed. ‘Other question then. How are you holding up?’

Fenris flexed his fingers and huffed – not out of pain, but with mild frustration. ‘I function. I cannot phase, however. Dorian says it will take a few more days, but I should wait longer. He helped me … a lot. If I don’t try anything, there’s no pain. Or so little I think there’s none, he insists he can do more, given time. All I know is that I haven’t been so well since …’ Fenris fell silent and looked away.

Varric nodded and patted his arm. Even that didn’t hurt. ‘Since Danarius looked after you. You realise that he is doing this for you while Danarius did it for himself.’

‘I … have come to realise that he truly doesn’t seem to expect any form of reward.’

‘Fenris … I wasn’t asking about your physical condition before. You lost your lover not too long ago.’

‘I lost my lover shortly after we left Kirkwall. I just refused to accept that. We would either have torn each other apart or just walked away from … whatever exactly this was.’

‘We both knew that in advance, in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘I haven’t. I was thinking about that talk. A lot. And about one of the first things Cole said to me, on the way to the mages and their spell. That I would not find Hawke, even if I brought him from the Fade. I didn’t understand then, I thought he was mad. But he said what I refused to see: I had lost Hawke. If he’d been alive, he’d have moved on. Without me.’ Fenris drained his mug and looked squarely at Varric. ‘I’m … sad that he died because he deserved to live a glorious life. But I was not going to have a major part in that life either way. I lost nothing. He did, and for that, I’m sorry. But I will not let it break me.’

Ϡ

Constance had become cautious. Hiding in her Chantry, always guarded, always watching. She was afraid and that was … not good. No-one had been hurt so far, although a few times it had been a close call. And there was something else, something Cole couldn’t point to one individual. But Constance’s recent fear made her even more of a threat. Her influence became more subtle, the aggression less open. The fights were starting to abate, turning into more sinister versions from time to time, a cancer in the minds of those affected that grew unless someone stopped – well, Constance.

The outbreaks of aggression, open or not, seemed to be controllable and affecting only two people at a time, moving on to the next when shaken off. But the other thing was less clear. Leliana had been affected by both Constance’s doubt and by the other thing. Her nightmare had been more than a bad dream, so much Cole could tell for sure. The emotion that had assaulted her had been so strong Cole had been driven to her, needing to wake her, to help her. At first he had thought the fear demon had somehow found a way to attack them, but that wasn’t quite it. This thing, whatever it was, fed from something that sat deeper … It had manifested itself as despair and fear in Leliana, but it was her very essence that would have been devoured if whatever force this was had managed to overwhelm her. It didn’t feel like a demon. That was frightening. Cole would be able to handle a demon. He could not fight this anymore than the wind, because this was little more than wind.

Cole needed to be alert. It was more difficult than previously, and for a moment, he almost regretted that he was so human now. But then he thought of Lenkala, and he couldn’t bring himself to wish it had been different.

Lenkala needed to know. He would tell her about Constance first. Whatever he did, he wouldn’t do it without her consent. And about the other threat. He had hoped that by the time he talked to Lenka about it, he could tell what the source was. But he had not spoken to her for almost a week, and she was waiting for an entirely different answer – an answer he had by now and didn’t want to keep to himself. In fact, Cole didn’t think he could contain it much longer. He might shatter if he tried.

 

 


	18. Twist in My Sobriety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading’s a song by Tanita Tikaram, who happens to be the sister of Dorian’s VA, Ramon Tikaram. I didn’t know this when I named the chapter, but I do know that Dorian’s voice acting killed me when the man first opened his mouth. Within the chapter, there’s an allusion to a historical person.))

Varric pointed out a winding path on the map. ‘This is our route,’ he explained. ‘These our destinations.’ He tapped a few crosses near the path. ‘Not the most direct approach I’ve picked, but I want to go from one of our camps to the others so you can contact us. If anything happens and you need us back here, send note.’

‘I will,’ Lenkala told him. ‘Be careful, Varric. All of you.’

The dwarf grinned. ‘You mean take care that Fenris doesn’t murder Dorian? He won’t.’ He sobered. ‘I mean it. You need me, you call.’

‘Certainly. Safe travels, friend.’

‘And you take care of this chaos troop here.’ He opened the door and laughed. ‘Ah, here comes the relief.’

Lenkala turned and found Cole. A smile formed on her face. ‘Oh? Haven’t seen you in a while.’

‘I was watching. I don’t like what I found.’

‘Sit down. What’s wrong?’

‘You don’t know?’

‘The fights?’

‘Not just them. There’s more. The fights I can tell you about.’

Lenkala followed Cole to her desk and sat next to him, her chair turned to face him. ‘I figured you might. Is someone in Skyhold doing this?’

‘Constance. She is doubt … fear of loss so deep that it brings what it wants to keep away.’

‘I … had my suspicions, but how could she do that? She’s not a mage.’

‘No. She never was. But she was faith. If faith loses purpose it becomes doubt.’

Lenkala stared at Cole. ‘Are you telling me the priest is a demon?’

‘I was uncertain first. But now I believe she is possessed.’

‘Can a non-mage be possessed?’

‘It is rarer, but it can happen. If they are where the demons travel, they may attract them … strong emotions, fear, betrayal, blood.’

Lenkala took Cole’s hands. ‘Can you tell me exactly what happened?’

Cole shook his head. ‘No. I only know what she is. She doesn’t know herself what she was. I told her I would kill her if she hurt anyone. I will not let her.’

Lenkala nodded slowly. ‘Perhaps we can send her away instead. I’ll try. If she refuses to go, and if she does indeed harm someone, I won’t tolerate it. But I don’t want you to get blood on your hands. I don’t want fuel for people that still fear you.’

‘I’m more trouble than I’m worth.’

‘You’re worth more trouble than I can imagine, Cole.’

The bright blue eyes warmed. ‘I have an answer.’ Lenkala’s heart literally skipped a beat before breaking into a wild tattoo. She swallowed and waited for Cole to continue. ‘But … not to your question. I can’t tell you why. I know that staying away to think was … it hurt. It hurt more than being forgotten. I miss seeing you. Hearing you. Being heard. You always listen. Varric does, too, and Dorian, but they always try to guide me. You help me find what I want. I … I miss touching you.’ He looked at their joined hands. ‘I miss sensing you the way I do when I hold your hands. I also miss the touch itself, but more … the other part. The one that lets me see your soul, bright and warm and gentle, the part you hide when you sit on the throne, all there for me to see. But if you need to know why … I can’t tell you that.’

Lenkala swallowed. She knew she had blushed halfway through Cole’s speech, but it didn’t matter. ‘I don’t need to know that. Just one thing. You feel that I care for you, don’t you?’ Cole nodded once. ‘Then … I must ask you this … are you doing this for me? To … help?’

Cole’s lips parted, but he didn’t answer at once. Lenkala withdrew her hands from his. He needed to answer this without any mental input from her. ‘I will answer honestly. That is what you want.’ So much for that. ‘I don’t feel like I am offering anything. I have little to give you. You would sacrifice so much I’d never dare ask it. But I want to share all I am with you. For us both, not just you. Not only myself either. I cannot take from you and return nothing.’

Ϡ

The library was empty, save for the two people sitting across each other. Fenris was leaning back in his chair, his eyes half closed. He needed to know if he could use his abilities in an emergency, needed to try. Dorian had sat him down, and now he was waiting for whatever the mage would come up with. ‘Slow, steady breaths. Yes. Like that. Now hold.’ Dorian cast, and a gentle green light wrapped around Fenris’s form, getting denser. Before it made direct contact with him, it flashed and went away. It had felt strange but not altogether unpleasant. ‘Release and continue breathing normally. Well … I think you should be fine. I’d like you to try and activate your lyrium. Ah … can you do that cautiously, or is that an all or nothing thing?’

Fenris tilted his head at the mage. ‘That is as possible as being a little pregnant.’

The mage smirked. ‘My experience with either is very limited. Please forgive me my ignorance.’

‘This time.’ Fenris braced himself for … what he wasn’t certain. Activating the lyrium worked fine. Maintaining the state for more than a moment, too. He smiled, beamed even, and passed his hand through Dorian’s desk. ‘No pain.’

‘I wasn’t expecting pain. I thought it might not work or knock you out to try.’

‘You didn’t warn me.’

‘You’re sitting, you wouldn’t have fallen far.’

‘So very considerate.’

‘Aren’t I? Ah, anyway. Now I feel comfortable about letting you leave Skyhold. Wouldn’t do for you to try the first time in combat and collapse, leaving Varric and me to keep stuff from eating you.’

Fenris gave him a quizzical look. Mostly, he was surprised at himself. Only a short time ago, Dorian’s suggestion that he wouldn’t let Fenris leave the place would have had him yelling. Not that the mage would have said it. He wasn’t guarding himself the way he had. He had appeared aloof and arrogant if somewhat sympathetic. Now his smile appeared more genuine, his peacock-like behaviour more like a show. ‘I’m in your debt, mage.’

Dorian blinked and burst into laughter. ‘You? You saved my life.’

‘And I am without pain for the first time in a very long while.’

‘You want to do something for me in return? Well, there’s one thing. Call me Dorian, Fenris. I’m a person, not a profession.’

Fenris opened his mouth and closed it. For all Dorian’s swagger, he sounded as if this was important for him. ‘I … think I can do that.’

‘Fenris, before I release you, there’s one more thing. Please hold out your hand. I will touch the lyrium, first just with my fingers, then with magic. If it hurts, you need to tell me.’ Still so cautious, warning him about what he would do. Giving him a chance to refuse. Fenris obliged.

Dorian’s fingers were warm and soft, clearly not the hands of a warrior. He ran a finger from the line that followed his thumb. ‘All right?’ At Fenris’s nod, a gentle flow of magic brushed his skin, not a mere test like before but firm.

‘No pain. None at all.’ Fenris frowned. ‘I always felt discomfort at the touch of magic, even in Tevinter.’

Dorian sighed. ‘It’s like that. Lyrium’s not a very healthy thing to have in your skin. The markings are keeping you well enough to function and counteract their own effects enough to keep you alive, but not to avoid pain. If that’s by design or carelessness I don’t know.’

‘Design?’

Dorian made a disgusted face. ‘To keep you faithful. Needing your master to keep the pain away, you see? I cannot permanently change that, but any mage can relieve you of the poisoning once in a while, stopping the pain.’ He lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. ‘I didn’t want to believe the design part myself, but if you never were without pain when in contact with magic, I am forced to change my mind. Way to go to control a man, make sure he never forgets the pain or its cause. And people wonder why you hate mages.’

‘Not all mages.’ The answer had come so fast Fenris himself was almost shocked.

Dorian tilted his head. ‘Can I ask you something personal?’

‘You may try.’

‘Well … what will you do after all this? I mean … we both know why you came here. What happens now? We go traipsing through the countryside with Varric for a little while, then … what?’

‘Why?’

‘Perhaps knowing will help me find my own answer. Because … I have no idea.’ Dorian turned away and walked to the window, staring outside. ‘First I thought I’d go home. Then … that I don’t need to. After a while, I thought I’d return and put things right.’ He turned again, facing Fenris, and there was something in his look, a suppressed anger that needed out. ‘And then you came. And … Fenris, I realised how fucked up it all really is. I knew all along, but kept telling myself it’s not so bad. How blinded I was!’ The mage’s voice had risen to almost a yell. ‘What was I thinking? That I’d go to Tevinter, become Black Divine, and kick the magisterium out of the window?’

‘Black Divine? Those words from a Tevinter magister?’

‘Altus. And it doesn’t matter what you call them. Not that anyone would vote for me, disgrace that I am.’

‘You are not a disgrace. The others are. If you truly are the man you seem to be, you are the best Tevinter has to offer.’ His own words surprised Fenris, and not just him.

The rage on Dorian’s face gave way to disbelief. ‘I … thank you.’ He shook his head. ‘So … if I go back, I will always have to be content with achieving less than half of what I want. If I stay, I’ll always think of myself as a coward.’

‘Choosing not to fight a lost battle doesn’t make you a coward. I’d call it common sense.’

‘I expected you to tell me that I should do all I can to turn things around, to see that slavery is abolished and the rule passed on to non-mages.’

‘I would. But I know Tevinter. You would achieve nothing except getting yourself assassinated after 33 days tops. You can do more if you stay away and fight the slave trade. The stealing of people from the cities. Talk to the Warden, she can tell you a story about slavers that will make your skin crawl. This is a battlefield where you still take risks, but you make a difference for those you can help. If you die, you will help no-one.’

Dorian walked towards him and grabbed Fenris’s shoulders. ‘You know what? Maybe you’re right. I’ll try and think about it that way.’

‘I could help you as long as you do not return. I will never go back to Tevinter.’

‘No, I wouldn’t recommend you to. But … I appreciate the offer. I’ll take it into consideration. Let’s find Varric and … what are people yelling about out there?’

Ϡ

Josephine, flanked by two guards, was folding her arms. Apparently when Dorian and Fenris had come bursting from the library she had looked their way, but now she directed her attention once again to the fuming woman. ‘Look, Vivienne …’

‘I need one piece.’

‘With all due respect, I cannot bring you red lyrium.’ Dorian exchanged a glance with Fenris. ‘You won’t even tell me what you need it for. The Inquisitor would have my hide.’

‘Why must she know?’ The usually composed woman was shouting. No, screaming. Something was terribly wrong.

Josephine’s seemingly eternal patience did have limits. ‘Tell me why! Then I’ll bring the matter to her and she will decide.’

Vivienne took a step forwards, madness in her eyes, and Dorian reacted. His spell caught her in mid-step and trapped her well away from the ambassador. Fenris chuckled. ‘You do that often?’

‘When I must.’ Dorian approached the woman. Perhaps he could get her to see sense. ‘Vivienne, surely you understand that what you ask has a huge potential for trouble.’

‘Stay out. You don’t know what this is about.’

‘I understand what you want. You want a piece of the substance that nearly killed me and had Fenris incapacitated for days.’

‘No one trusts me! We trust demons and blood mages, but not me!’

‘This is exactly the point,’ Josephine said. ‘You are angry at a lot of people here. I won’t hand a potentially lethal substance to you as long as you don’t give me a reason!’

Fenris raised his hands. ‘Vivienne, I … tend to agree with you. I don’t like the idea of a blood mage walking around anymore than you do, and I don’t know that I trust Cole. But surely you see why your request might strike someone as … odd.’

Something shifted. Vivienne’s shoulders slumped and she turned away. Slowly, dejectedly, she walked up to her balcony. ‘Wait! Wait, hold her!’ Cole’s voice echoed around the hall, coming from the throne room below. Hurried footsteps clattered up the flight of stairs. The young man nearly tripped over his own feet when he reached the upper landing. The guards hadn’t moved, waiting for Josephine to say something.

‘Do it,’ the Antivan said quietly.

They approached, their wariness of the mage obvious. ‘Look, we won’t harm you.’

Vivienne let out quiet laughter that rose in volume until it turned hysterical. Dorian was prepared to cast again, to counter anything she might throw against one of them. ‘What’s wrong with her?’

Cole looked at him for a moment. Lenkala was coming up the stairs behind him, a lot more sedately. ‘I don’t know. Hold her.’

Vivienne didn’t cast. ‘I surrender.’ The guards’ relief was obvious. Dorian relaxed.

Cole’s effort to seem unthreatening was obvious. ‘Vivienne. I am not here to hurt you. You need help.’

‘I don’t need your help.’

‘Please hear me.’ He drew closer still. ‘Something is in your head. You need to push it out.’

‘Are you accusing me of being an abomination, demon?’

‘No.’ Cole was still calm, still quiet. ‘I am saying someone is trying to hurt you.’

The mage’s eyes widened, and even from the relative distance Dorian could see her pupils dilating. ‘Yes. Someone is. You!’ She spun around again and ran to the balcony. Without stopping she vaulted over the balustrade.

Dorian tried to cast a barrier into the blue and saw Lenkala do the same, knowing how slim their chances of actually getting the mage were. A scream, growing quieter with every split second, rent the air and they all stood frozen. At last, Fenris walked over to the balcony and looked down. When he faced them again, he shook his head.

Dorian cleared his throat. ‘Not to sound insensitive … But what did she do that for?’ He looked at Cole. ‘I mean, she was never too fond of you, but to see her so frightened … What got into her?’

‘Constance?’ Lenkala offered.

Cole shook his head. ‘No. That was not her. That was the other thing.’

‘And what precisely is the other thing?’

‘Something dark and dreadful.’

Dorian sighed. ‘Well. If you don’t mind, I’ll tell Varric there’s a change of plans. Perhaps you need us more here.’

Lenkala shot him a tight-lipped look. ‘Yes, I’d be grateful if you stayed. This just got personal.’

 

 


	19. Hazy With Attendant Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is a line from the R.E.M. song Sad Professor. And … Oh, I could write an entire thesis about Dorian, but I’ll spare us all, right? Let it be said that I disagree with a lot of things that are being assumed about the characters in the game, especially the Iron Bull, Dorian, and Cole. Now I’m going to take a similar line here, but I don’t see things quite as black as people out there appear to.))

Lenkala watched Cullen training the recruits while she approached him. The templar was obviously getting better. Evangeline still had a long way to go, but his progress seemed to inspire her. Lenkala watched the sparring match between Cullen and what looked like a mere boy. The lad was doing well, but in a real fight, he wouldn’t have stood a chance. When Cullen deemed his young opponent’s session finished, Lenkala waved at them. ‘Oi!’

The blonde turned. ‘Can I help you?’

‘I’d need a word. Four eyes.’

Cullen raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh? That should be interesting.’ Only a few steps away, he stopped abruptly. ‘Let’s not go too far away, if you don’t mind.’

Lenkala placed a hand on his arm. ‘Are you all right, Cullen? Do you need anything?’

‘Not pestering me would be a start!’

The elf blinked at him. ‘Ah … I think this is a bad time.’

The templar closed his eyes and sank to the floor, shaking. ‘It’s not what you think … I need … to …’

Sighing, she lowered herself to the cold floor in front of Cullen. ‘Hey. Talk to me?’

His eyes were desperate, fear and something wild battling for the upper hand. ‘I can’t.’

‘Then to someone else.’

He shook his head. ‘Lenka … I … want to hurt you.’ His voice was barely above a whisper, but there was something dark underlying it. ‘I want you to bleed until you die. But I don’t know why, and I know it’s wrong. And you have nothing to fear from me.’

Cullen looked desperate, driven, and feverish. That might all be a relapse of the withdrawal, but somehow she didn’t think so. Still, she trusted the man with her life. He certainly would have the strength to resist whatever was trying to control him. ‘Cullen, there’s someone here trying to cause violence. Fight it. You know the incidents we had, some of them were dispersed by you.’

‘What is causing this? Cole? But you don’t want to hear that, do you, blinded as you are!’ He jumped to his feet and drew his sword, his legs shaking as if standing alone was an enormous effort.

Automatically and despite herself, Lenkala prepared a spell and took a step backwards. ‘Cullen, think. I’m your friend. I’m sure you don’t want to hurt me.’ The man was sweating and obviously fighting a furious battle against himself. Feeling bold, Lenkala approached him slowly, hands up as if in surrender. ‘Come on, Cullen. We’ve fought together, trained together. You’re one of my most trusted advisors. Don’t do something you’d regret until the end of your days.’

‘Regret cutting down an abomination?’

‘Cullen. Don’t.’ She tried to be calm, but the truth was that Lenkala was afraid. The man was a templar. If he thought of using his talents against her, she was done. The soldiers were in shouting range but not looking their way, so this was going to be between them. As long as Cullen didn’t snap, that was good.

His lower lip started trembling, and with a shout that caught everyone’s attention, he flung his sword away. He fell back down to his knees and stared at his hands as if they were monsters.

‘Better?’ Lenkala ventured.

The man looked up at her, and she realised that he was not one bit better even before he spoke. ‘Kill me. Or put me in jail, Lenka.’ This was perhaps the fifth time Cullen had used her nickname, and twice had been within the last few minutes. He had never been afraid of her, but always distant. Now he seemed very young and rather lost. The informal address added to that feeling.

‘Do you still want to kill me?’

‘N…no! I don’t know … the withdrawal …’

‘That wasn’t the withdrawal, Cullen. That was a foreign influence. We’ll get rid of her.’ The truth was, ever since her talk with Cole, Constance was nowhere to be found. But Lenkala wasn’t going to sit by and watch, even if she had to torture the woman’s whereabouts out of Giselle. ‘Nothing happened. I’m all right, you didn’t hurt me.’

‘I could have. Why didn’t you stop me?’

She almost told him that for a mage it was a bit difficult to stop a templar. ‘I trusted you not to,’ she said instead. ‘Cullen, get yourself on your feet and out of sight of your soldiers. You need to command these people.’

Her words had the desired effect. His training kicked in and he stood, this time without shaking. ‘Yes, Inquisitor,’ he said quietly.

‘Get some rest, talk to Cole, he knows what’s happening, and help him and Leliana with finding this Constance person. She needs to go and fast. If you find him, please send him to Evangeline … and you get your templars. I might need them. And I certainly need you, Cullen. Can I count on you?’

The templar took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. ‘Of course, Inquisitor. And … thank you.’

Ϡ

Dorian’s laughter was loud and raucous, drawing more attention than he had meant to. Not that he cared. When the Iron Bull had volunteered to retrieve Vivienne’s body from below, Dorian had gone with him. And he was glad about that, because the treacherous path down would have claimed the warrior’s life, too. This time, Dorian’s barrier had been faster than the impact, however, and he had laughed it off. Dorian’s heart had still raced like mad and he wondered what he would have done if he hadn’t been fast enough. The downside was that after her fall, Vivienne was not exactly a pretty sight to see. No, he would not think about that. He wanted to get that image out of his head, not make it last.

Now, he was in the tavern with Bull, Sera, and a couple of others and blissfully drunk – and somehow getting closer and closer to the Iron Bull. Strange. The odd kind of attraction he’d felt had passed a while ago. He just … he really wanted someone to warm his bed tonight, and Bull just might be game. Emboldened by the wine and the fact that Bull wasn’t moving away, Dorian leaned closer still. ‘What would you do if I kissed you, exactly?’

The Iron Bull leered at him ‘Do you dare find out?’

Dorian had always liked challenges. He closed the distance and placed his lips firmly on the other man’s. It felt a little clumsier than his usual standards, but in all fairness, they were both far from sober. ‘Would you fuck me, Bull?’ He thought he’d whispered, but his voice carried through the almost empty tavern. ‘I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk right.’ Boy, he must be really far gone. A loud bang echoed somewhere near, but Dorian neither knew nor cared what had caused it. All he knew was that he was hard and had managed to almost straddle the warrior.

‘You complete and utter jerk!’ Sera’s voice cut through the fog in his head. He didn’t really feel that this was meant for him, but then something very cold was being dumped on his head and running down into his shirt.

‘What the fuck?’ he jumped to his feet, somewhat more sober. The elf stood next to him with an empty flask in her hand. Apparently she had emptied one of her devious concoctions over him. ‘Sera?’

‘Next time it will be fire, asshole! I thought you’re better than that.’

‘I … you …’ His eyes narrowed and he pointed a finger at her. ‘Now you’re one to talk. You were snogging that nurse in broad daylight. The soldiers were making whooping sounds and you showed them the finger while you had your tongue a mile down her throat. So how do you get to judge me?’

The young woman shoved him hard in the shoulder and Dorian stumbled backwards. He would have fallen if Bull hadn’t caught him. Apparently, he wasn’t as sobered as he’d thought. ‘I don’t screw around behind someone else’s back, that’s how.’ She threw her hands in the air. ‘Eurgh! You’re _disgusting_ is what you are.’ She stormed out, still swearing.

Dorian scratched his head. ‘Could someone tell me what just happened?’

‘Sit down,’ Bull said. ‘You want to know what happened put your glass down. You’ve had enough.’

‘You don’t tell me …’

‘Dorian. You can either get completely wasted, we go upstairs, I fuck you, and tomorrow you’ll regret it. Or we can discuss what just happened without you noticing and you still like me and yourself tomorrow. Your choice.’

He wanted to down his wine and tell the Iron Bull that tomorrow could go and get stuffed. But there was something that told him this was important and that he really wanted to hear what the Bull had to say. He put down his glass and scowled. ‘Good man,’ Bull said. ‘Sera believes you’re cheating.’

‘I gathered that, funnily enough. I can’t cheat if I’m not with anyone.’

‘No. But she thinks you are. Because of the scene going on behind you when you were about to sit on my lap.’ The warrior’s voice was quiet, and those few still in the tavern had lost their interest in the conversation. ‘Fenris saw that, you see, and stormed out.’

‘I heard the door.’ Dorian shook his head. ‘But … why would he be angry? I mean, yes, he’s from Tevinter, but you’d think he’s more tolerant than the bunch there, especially since he and Hawke …’

‘Great. You drowned your logic.’ Bull ran a hand over his face. ‘Look. First, he didn’t look angry. He looked … hurt. And that wasn’t because of intolerance.’

‘Wait. Sera thinks I’m with Fenris?’

‘Well, yes. And with good reason.’

‘I’m not! I mean … I can’t be in a relationship, and certainly not with him! He wouldn’t want anything to do with me! And I … I never even thought about anything like that. I have my fun when the moment’s right and walk away. I don’t do serious.’

‘Yeah. Dorian, the philanderer, takes his pleasures where he can and doesn’t give a fuck. You want to know what I think?’

‘No. Like I said. I can’t be in a relationship.’

‘I’m telling you anyway. Deep down, you’re a bloody romantic. You want to have it all, love, trust, faith. But you’ve brought Tevinter with you.’

‘I have not!’

Bull banged his fist on the table. ‘Shut up and listen! All the burdens, the shit rules, you carry them around to keep you company and hide them behind arrogance. You’ll never live the life you deserve because you chain yourself to your fucked up social system. You don’t allow yourself to fall in love. You’ve had your head bashed in with how what you want is wrong and now you believe it yourself.’ The Iron Bull took Dorian’s shoulders and stared at him. ‘It’s not. Open yourself up, show us who you really are. Maybe you get hurt. Maybe you don’t. But at least you won’t become bitter, getting drunk whenever some deeper emotion rears its head.’

‘I’m not a drunkard, Bull. You should know that.’

‘Not yet, but you’re one very likely candidate. You see, I like you, but I don’t like where you’re going. Think about it, Dorian. Think hard and fast who and what you want to be.’

Ϡ

Fear … familiar, and yet new … a physical experience, cutting, breaking through his mind, making him shake like a leaf in the wind. The body in his arms still had life, but it was running red through his fingers that tried in vain to stem the flow. ‘Cole … Cole, help him.’ Her voice so weak, only a whisper.

His lower lip trembled and another new sensation assaulted him: Water leaked from his eyes and ran down his cheeks. ‘I c…can’t. He’s gone.’

‘What … happened?’

Cole shook his head, but of course, she couldn’t see. ‘It wasn’t him, Evangeline.’ He brushed her hair away from her forehead. ‘It was not Rhys. He loved you. She made him hurt you and I will destroy her. I’ll avenge you both.’

Evangeline’s hands closed around his arm, her grip almost painfully hard. ‘Our child … Cole, I … Please save our child.’

He had always feared despair. Now it threatened to suffuse him and take him down into dark waters he would never escape from. Her child was dead already, and Evangeline was about to follow. He had no answer. All he could do was hold her and not let her die alone.

Constance was now his enemy. She’d had a choice and made it. But the other thing would have to go, too. Rhys had been claimed by both. Constance had used him to kill Evangeline. The other thing had taken his terror when he realised what he had done and consumed his life. Cole wanted to scream, but he had to be strong. For Evangeline. He felt her twist but held her in place. ‘No, don’t look.’ Rhys’s body was still on the floor in the same room. He didn’t want her to see that. ‘Look at me, Evangeline. Look at me.’ Her eyes found his and he nodded. ‘I will avenge you. Do you hear me? I will make sure no-one else gets hurt.’ Evangeline went limp in his arms and he would never get an answer. But Cole didn’t need one. He would keep his promise. The door opened and a guard froze at the sight that greeted him.

The man paled. His eyes fixed Cole with a look of absolute disgust. ‘You monster.’

Before Cole could answer a calm voice behind the guard spoke. ‘No. That was not his doing. Alert the Inquisitor that I would like to speak to her. I will bring Cole.’

The guard turned. ‘But he’s alone with them. Who else would you say was this?’

‘That is what I mean to ask Cole. Now go.’

After a moment of hesitation, the guard walked away. Cole glared at the figure behind him. ‘Where were you?’ His voice was rough with boiling anger. Gently, he laid Evangeline down and closed her eyes before he approached the new arrival. ‘Where were you?’ This time, he yelled. ‘You could have stopped all this, but you walked away! You left us with this! Left me.’ Balling his fists, Cole turned away. He would not lash out, not at someone who had no part in his pain. Not really, not if he was honest.

A gentle hand was placed on his shoulders. ‘Cole.’ He tensed. ‘Please. I don’t want to speak to the back of your head.’

‘Then don’t. We don’t need you now.’

‘I think you do. Or do you know how to stop this?’

Defiantly, Cole faced the other man. ‘You don’t know anything. Not even yourself.’

A small smile played on the young face with the ancient eyes. ‘You may be right. So … please tell me what happened. There is more wrong here than I thought.’

‘You first. You owe me.’

‘Ah, you’re right. But I need to tell Lenkala, too. Would you please accompany me to her?’

Cole looked at his hands, red with blood, then at Evangeline and Rhys. Fresh tears burned in his eyes. ‘I … Yes. But I need to … Can’t leave them, not like this. Can’t face Lenka like this.’

‘Like this? Bloody or crying?’

‘Both.’

‘I will take care of your friends, see that they are prepared for burying. You get cleaned up. Don’t worry about crying, she will understand.’

‘You don’t care if she does! You never wanted her to like me.’

‘I … was worried if the way she likes you might be dangerous for you, but I have changed my mind about that. Your decisions are your own. And you are entitled to find happiness, Cole. Now go. We need to make certain this never happens again.’

The young man nodded. Before he could leave, he embraced the other, realising too late that he was still covered in blood. ‘I’m glad you’re here. Welcome back, Solas.’

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Someone got a reprieve, someone else died accidentally. More precisely, I had every intention to kill off Cullen but never wanted Evangeline to die. Ah, well, it happens.)) 


	20. When Night Falls On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is a line taken from October by Evanescence.))

The morning presented Dorian with a headache and a sense of guilt he felt he didn’t deserve. He hadn’t done anything, to begin with, and even if he had, he had every right to. And yet …

The bottle with a potion to ease a hangover was almost empty. He’d had to use it way too often in the past few weeks. The Bull was right. This was a dangerous path. The thought that Dorian hadn’t even wasted a single thought on what he was doing to himself made him shiver. ‘Oh no, you won’t end up like that.’ He ignored the bottle. He deserved the pain. Perhaps it was good to keep it as a reminder.

Of the two things that had happened, the one that bugged Dorian was Sera. The problem was that he liked her and really didn’t want her to think of him as an unfaithful, arrogant noble.

And Fenris … Well. He certainly liked that elf, too. And he wasn’t going to say that he was unattractive. He’d noticed it, sure. But between the man’s grief and his hatred for everything Dorian was, he’d never even dared to flirt. Somehow, though, Fenris had got the wrong idea. He wouldn’t want a quick tumble and walk away from it. If Fenris was interested, Dorian was sure he was serious – and right now probably either cursing the mage or himself for falling for him.

Dorian walked towards the tavern as if to the scaffold. He needed to see Sera, and then Fenris. What he would tell him, he had no idea, but he didn’t want him to retreat again. The question was why he didn’t want that. He didn’t care what most people here thought about him. But Fenris … they’d got to friendly terms and … Dorian stopped before entering the tavern and rested his forehead against the door. He really liked him. A lot. He found him one of the most erotic beings he had ever met, but that wasn’t even it. He liked talking with him, enjoyed his company. And the reverse was also true. Perhaps it was time to take a leap of faith.

Pulling himself up to his full height and putting on an expression of indifference, Dorian strode into the tavern. He waved at the landlord and headed upstairs and to Sera. As usual her door stood open. Dorian approached warily. ‘Ah … Sera?’ A book came flying in his direction, and he dodged it quickly. ‘I’d like to talk to you. About yesterday.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Right. Then … let me say one sentence. I’ll leave then, if you want me to. Please.’

‘I’ll shoot you if you don’t.’

Somehow, Dorian doubted that, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to risk it. ‘All right. I am not in a relationship with Fenris.’ For almost a minute there was no answer. ‘Can I come in now?’

‘Yeah, yeah, right.’

Dorian sighed with relief and entered. ‘Are we good?’

‘I’m not sure. You were leading him on. The way he left … You hurt him.’

‘I didn’t even know … Did he say anything to you?’

‘Nah. Don’t talk much with him. Keeps to himself a lot. Not sure if he likes being alone, but he still stays clear of most people. Strange fellow, he.’

Dorian nodded slowly. ‘I like him, Sera. Do you think … do you think that what damage I did, albeit unknowingly, can be repaired?’

The elf looked at him sideways. ‘Talking all fancy might not work on him. I don’t know. Try it. Maybe he’ll hit you, maybe he won’t.’

‘Is he in his room right now?’

‘What am I, Cole? Go look.’

A small smile played on Dorian’s face. ‘Or I could ask Cole, since you seem to recommend him these days?’

Sera stuck out her tongue, and Dorian laughed. ‘I don’t! He’s still wrong.’

‘He? Not it?’

‘Ah, go away. Go find Fenris. And Dorian: Don’t you dare hurt him. He’s not a plaything, nor your slave. And you’re not a magister here. You’re just one of us.’

Dorian smiled at her. ‘I know that, Sera. Thank you. I mean it.’ He walked away and down the hall. Holding out his hand before him, Dorian saw it was shaking. ‘Dorian Pavus, Altus of Tevinter, scared of asking someone to speak to him. Way to go.’ The door to Fenris’s room was closed. He knocked and waited for an answer. ‘Fenris, are you in there?’ Again, he waited. ‘I … would like to know … Ah.’ He felt incredibly stupid. There was an excellent chance Dorian was talking to an empty room. ‘Fenris, nothing happened last night. Not once Bull pointed out to me that you … um.’ He was just about to turn around and go when the door opened.

Fenris looked tired, and Dorian wondered if he had slept at all. ‘Don’t let me get in the way. I’ve no claim on you.’

‘Claim … Claim? This isn’t … Fenris, I’ll be plain. I spent half the night … well, sleeping, seeing how I was drunk. But the other half I thought about you and myself and … Well.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m a mess, Fenris. Why would you bother with me?’

The warrior’s face softened. ‘Come in.’ Shrugging, Dorian stepped inside and for once allowed his mask to slip. He sat on the single chair and looked everywhere but at Fenris. The elf turned away and continued talking with his back to Dorian. ‘I was not angry at you. I was angry at myself. For thinking …’

‘For thinking … I would be interested in you?’ Dorian rose and approached the other man. His heart beating wildly, he reached out, his fingertips brushing Fenris’s shoulder. ‘I am. I just … never thought of you … because. You know.’

‘Because I was betrayed and used and raped before and wouldn’t want more of the same? You were right about that.’

‘That is … so not what I wanted to say.’ Dorian stood beside him, trying to get the other man to look at him. ‘Because I am who I am. And what you just said proves that I will always be the Tevinter mage to you, no matter what I do. That I’m a hazard in your eyes, someone who could easily try to force or coax you into giving something you’re not prepared to give. And that’s why I wonder what yesterday was about. If I am such a vile thing, why would what you saw bother you?’

‘You are not vile. Nor a hazard.’ Dorian saw Fenris swallow before finally he graced him with a look. It was harsh, but after a moment that bled away and the elf’s expression became almost tender. ‘I hate that I like you so much. That I … trust you. A part of me fears that you will betray that trust.’

‘I am not Danarius, Fenris.’ Dorian’s voice was quiet, almost a whisper. ‘Nor Hawke.’

‘No. But you are a Tevinter noble who never thought of exclusivity. You will never be content with me alone.’

‘I think you have a wrong idea about the amount of sexual contacts I’ve had. I hardly ever got to have sex, so when the opportunity was there, I tended to grab it. But that wasn’t too often, not in our society. I never thought about a relationship but … the Bull said something very wise to me. I shouldn’t bring Tevinter with me. And I will certainly not use you, Fenris. You’re too good for that.’

‘Then what do you intend to do with me?’

‘Is that even a question? Would you give me a chance?’

Fenris pursed his lips. ‘A chance to treat me like you own me?’

Dorian made a face. ‘A chance not to do that. To show you that I see you as an equal and that you can rely on me.’

‘One. And one only.’

A smile formed on Dorian’s face. Emboldened, he cupped Fenris’s cheek. When the elf closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, he kissed him. Chastely, but too long to be mistaken for something non-romantic. ‘You know, I expected to find you hating me. Not this.’

Warm hands settled on Dorian’s waist. ‘Difficult times make strange bedfellows, it seems. A magister and a slave. Hmm.’

‘Good thing we’re neither. Fenris … I need you to be aware of this. I don’t know how to do this relationship thing.’

‘I’ve come to the conclusion that no-one does. We can only try not to hurt each other more than we must.’

‘Meaning … you want a relationship? Yes?’

‘As opposed to being one of the not-so-many notches on your bedpost? Yes. That would not be enough for me. I thought that was clear.’

Fenris’s sudden insecurity was tangible, his obvious dread that they weren’t on the same page clear in the vivid green eyes. Only a short time ago, Dorian would have balked if anyone had tried to want something as outrageous as a liaison that had actual meaning. But this wasn’t Tevinter, and Dorian found it was high time he shed what remained of his mental shackles. ‘I can’t believe I’m saying that, but I agree.’ Dorian rested his forehead against Fenris’s and grinned. ‘Call me unromantic, but I need to hunt down some sort of hangover breakfast.’

Fenris smirked at him. ‘I’ll help you. In case you get lost and end up in the wine cellar.’

‘Can’t happen. I’m banned from there.’ He snorted at Fenris’s baffled expression. ‘That … was a misunderstanding. One I’m not sure I’ll forgive Cole too soon.’ Fenris’s eyebrows travelled up, and Dorian laughed. ‘Oh, don’t do that, my poor head. Let’s go. I’ll tell you about it when my head doesn’t feel like something’s trying to claw its way out anymore.’

Ϡ

Lenkala couldn’t stop staring at Solas. He had returned like he had vanished, with no explanation and as if nothing had happened. She wasn’t going to ask, either. Chances were that she needed the man. Cole was in shock. Solas had told her briefly what had happened, and Lenkala had taken Cole into her arms without thinking. He had held her so tightly it nearly hurt. When he released her, he looked determined, and Lenkala decided to talk to him when they were alone rather than with Solas, Cullen, and Leliana watching.

‘Well. That settles it. I want this woman found. I want her … found.’ She very nearly said something else, but no. She would not command someone be killed without a trial.

‘I tried. I can’t.’ The despair in Cole’s voice let her anger at this Constance surge.

‘Leliana?’

‘I’ll have her looked for. But if she left Skyhold … Would she be powerful enough to control someone from afar?’

Cole shook his head. ‘No. She must still be here. But if she is possessed, the demon will try to keep her hidden. If it’s powerful enough, we’ll have difficulty finding her.’

‘Tell me one thing … Don’t get this wrong, please. I know you have no part in Constance’s crimes, but how do you manage to always end up where someone’s under her spell?’

‘They scream inside. They scream so loud I think my ears will bleed. But not only her targets.’ The bright blue eyes turned to Solas. ‘You said you’d explain.’

The elf nodded. ‘Yes. And I will, as best I can. You need to realise that these entities do different things. The spirit or demon of doubt is creating discord, I take it?’

Leliana shuddered. ‘That … is one way to put it. It always focuses on someone and creates hatred against someone else. Sometimes it does it to both of them. I’ve … been under the spell, but then something else happened. I had a horrible nightmare and when I woke up, the hatred was gone.’

‘That nightmare, was there anything about it that was extraordinary?’

Leliana looked at Solas and nodded. ‘It felt real. I cannot explain it better. It was a place full of corpses, and I believe that if whatever had killed them had found me I would have died as well. In the real world.’ She smiled at Cole. ‘He saved me, or so I think. He woke me up, didn’t let it get me.’

Cole opened his mouth, then his eyes widened. ‘No.’

‘Someone else?’ Solas asked. The young man just nodded.

Leliana smiled at him. ‘Go, Cole. Meet me in the tavern later, I have a promise to keep.’ She had barely stopped talking when Cole had bolted. ‘Poor soul. I cannot imagine what he is going through.’

‘This isn’t good for him,’ Lenkala said.

Solas was still looking at the closed door. ‘Indeed. We have to stop it. For everyone’s sake, including Cole. He could have dealt more easily with it as a spirit. As a human, he struggles. He will need us.’

‘He’s got us.’

‘Question,’ Cullen said. ‘How do we know this isn’t him? I mean … Lenka, I know how you feel about him, but I mean … seriously … a priest doing this to people?’

‘A demon within a priest,’ Solas said patiently. ‘And something else entirely. A disembodied entity that strikes from the Fade. Not a demon. A remnant trying to get a foothold again.’ He licked his lips. ‘This remnant … is lost and desperate. I do not intend to destroy it. I intend to help it. In doing that, I will help you all.’

‘Can it be destroyed, Solas?’

‘Everything can be, Inquisitor. I am not sure I can do it, but I am sure I will not even try.’

‘Who or what is that remnant?’

‘Mythal.’

That last revelation was greeted by a ringing silence.

‘Mythal? Solas, that makes absolutely no sense. Mythal is the protector.’

The other elf looked squarely at her. ‘It is not Mythal’s intention to hurt anyone. I doubt she’s aware of it in her state. She needs to survive. That is all. I want to help her do that without causing further harm.’

‘Are you saying,’ Leliana asked at last, ‘that Jowan is doing this? That’s ridiculous.’

Solas shook his head. ‘Jowan is doing nothing. If anything, he is being used, but I doubt that. Mythal is very real, not just the knowledge your husband acquired. In order to return to power … and by power I mean simply being manifest in our world … she needs strength. Disembodied, she can only garner strength by feeding off others. She can feed off me, but I need to help her see that. She also needs a vessel. I intend to offer myself for the moment. She will break from me when she is ready. Before she is, we will both be indisposed for a while.’

‘Solas, what makes you think that you can do this? That you won’t die like the others?’

‘You will have to trust me. I haven’t let you down so far, Inquisitor. I will not do so now if I can help it.’

Ϡ

Getting down there where they had thrown the red lyrium was difficult. There was no real path, just climbing down the rocks. But he had to get down there. ‘Varric!’ His name was being shouted from above, not too far because he had only just started his descent. ‘Varric, don’t go further. Wait!’ Holding on to a spike of rock, Varric looked up. Cole was coming down, too fast for safety. ‘Varric, what are you doing? Don’t go near it!’

‘I need to go down there.’

‘You’ll fall. Look, there’s an overhang and you don’t have any equipment. You can’t get down alive.’

Varric looked. The lad was right. ‘What the … Cole, I …’

‘Come on, get back up. Solas will explain it.’

‘Solas?’

‘He’s back. Varric, please.’ The young man’s desperation set Varric’s mind right. What _was_ he doing here?

‘Is it possible that something wants me dead?’

‘Yes.’

Huffing, Varric started climbing up again. Now that he was aware of his precarious position that was much more difficult. ‘Cole, talk to me. Distract me.’

‘No, that would be dangerous.’

‘Me looking down and falling because everything’s spinning would be dangerous.’

‘No. That would be fatal. But nothing is spinning. Are you ill, Varric?’

The dwarf snorted and pulled himself up to the path. Cole was already there and offered him a hand. ‘No, no, I’m not ill. Thanks, kid.’

‘For what?’

‘Distracting me. I don’t like heights too much. I think I need a stiff drink after this.’

‘What were you doing down there, Varric?’

The dwarf scratched his head. ‘Don’t know. Just felt a need to get down. I didn’t even see that I couldn’t get there. What’s wrong with me?’

‘Nothing. But we’ll take care of it.’

‘You and Solas?’

‘Yes.’ They were waved in by the guards. ‘We got rid of Corypheus. We’ll get rid of this, too.’

Varric clapped Cole’s shoulder. ‘That’s the spirit, kid.’ He grinned. ‘No pun intended.’

 

 


	21. You Fill In the Harmony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is a line from World Leader Pretend by R.E.M., and there’s a passage that is partly a quote of The Witcher. I am so not sorry.))

Varric cradled his drink in his hands and watched with amusement how Cole managed to feel the effects of half a glass of wine. The young man was not used to alcohol, that much was obvious.

If he hadn’t spent so much time around the lad, Varric might not even have noticed. In fact, where others became less coherent, Cole was now more so. Leliana was through her fourth glass and apparently intended not to leave it there. At one point Dorian had sauntered over but refused to touch anything alcoholic.

Varric decided to take advantage of the intensity with which Leliana and Cole discussed the flavour of the wine. Cole insisted it tasted of rain and wind. That the kid’s perception was different wasn’t all that unusual, but Leliana was far enough gone to actually agree and get entangled in a philosophical discussion. ‘So, what’s with the milk, Sparkler?’ Varric whispered, leaning closer to the mage to give them some semblance of privacy.

‘Ah … that. An experiment, if you want.’

‘What kind?’

Dorian looked at the white liquid as if it had the answer to every mystery in the universe. ‘The painful kind. Do I need alcohol, or not?’

That gave Varric pause. ‘I never realised you might have a problem.’ He had seen the mage drunk once, knew he had been another time. Other than that … yes, he liked to drink, but never excessively. Of course, that wasn’t saying anything.

‘Me neither.’ The mage looked at him. ‘Bull did. And he’s right.’

‘How long’ve you gone without now?’

‘Couple of days.’

‘Miss anything?’

Dorian shrugged. ‘A bit, but not the way I feared. I miss the numbness. The … the ease with which to put everything away.’

‘You and the kid make more sense under the influence than sober.’

Dorian laughed. ‘It’s easier not to feel too deep when you numb your senses.’

Varric nodded. ‘I see. And what do you not want to feel? What Fenris does to your composure?’

‘For example.’ The mage drained half his glass and wiped over his mouth. ‘But, it turns out, that I do want to feel that. I also intend to feel a lot more. A lot more physical stuff, too.’

‘Wait, with Fenris? Look … Dorian, no offence, but don’t.’ The amusement in the mage’s eyes was alarming. It confirmed Varric’s suspicion that the man didn’t take this anywhere near as seriously as he should. ‘Fenris seems tough, I know, but … he’s a big softie on the inside. He’s all about big feelings, and you’re … well … you.’

‘So I can’t have those big feelings, Varric?’ The humour gave way to a distant look. ‘What if I’d like to … try and feel those, too. What if I want to shed what’s holding me down and live. Live and breathe freely and love.’

‘Love?’

Dorian’s eyes settled on his. He had never seen the man so sincere. ‘It’s not quite that, but … who knows what will come with time? I care about him. I have no intention to hurt him.’

‘That’s nothing I’d have expected from you.’

‘No. From me you’d expect frantic fucking in the back room. But nothing more. That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?’

‘It’s what you’ve tried to convince everyone of, Sparkler. Don’t be pissed off that that worked.’ He clapped his shoulder. ‘I’m glad it’s not true. I like the deep, honest Dorian a lot better than the aloof, cynical one.’

‘I can be both. Aloof and honest! Just you wait, I’ll pull it off.’

Varric grinned. ‘I don’t doubt it. So … where do you two stand?’

‘We discussed the possibilities. But … I find myself a bit … um.’

‘Now don’t tell me you’re getting shy, too.’

‘Not shy. But this … means a lot to me. And that’s not something I’m used to.’ He lowered his voice further. ‘If I sleep with Fenris, that’ll have to be the sealing of a pact between us. And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that yet.’ He stared at his milk. ‘One more reason to stay sober. Who knows how much I’d ruin?’

‘You do not need to be afraid,’ Cole cut in. ‘You do not need drinking as a crutch. But you should walk without it before you do.’

Dorian nodded. ‘That about sums it up. Yes. I did ask you not to get into my head, though, didn’t I?’ He took the glass from Cole and sniffed. ‘Good stuff. Drink some for me, too, will you?’

‘I think Cole’s had enough for the first time,’ Varric said gently.

‘First time? Oh, I still remember my first time.’

‘Dorian!’ Leliana said sharply.

The mage grinned. ‘What? He’s not a child. And I was talking about wine, actually. I think I was twelve. I was allowed a glass or so. I hated how it tasted, but I felt like an adult. I did empty the rest into a flower pot, though.’ He leaned forwards. ‘Incidentally, have you ever had sex?’

The kid blushed crimson. ‘No.’

‘D’you want to?’

Cole looked away.

‘Leave him alone, Sparkler.’

Dorian ignored Varric. ‘I know you want to. But that’s new, isn’t it? Something that hasn’t happened before you became more human. Don’t fear it, Cole. You’re a young man, and now you’re no longer a spirit, your body demands attention. The wonderful part is that you, my dear young man, aren’t shackled by being a disgrace.’ The bitter tone left Varric lost for words. How much pain was Dorian hiding on a normal day?

Leliana reached over the table and placed a gentle hand on the mage’s arm. ‘Hey. No-one here thinks that. We love you, you know that.’

‘Yeah. You can be a nuisance, but we’d sorely miss you. And you can be sure no-one thinks twice about who you prefer to bed.’

Dorian smiled at them. ‘I … thank you, but there are those who would prefer to see me go. But that’s for different reasons.’ He swallowed and directed himself at Cole again. ‘You love Lenka, don’t you? I don’t know why you don’t go out there and … get her. She won’t kick you out of her bed.’

Varric frowned. ‘Dorian, she’s Dalish and Cole’s not exactly outgoing. Give them time.’

‘All I’m saying is that life can be so short. We don’t know what happens tomorrow.’

‘Perhaps you should listen to yourself and find Fenris, Sparkler, but leave Cole alone.’ He tried to sound stern, but he heard the laughter in his voice himself. So much for that.

‘He’s right, though,’ the kid said. He stood abruptly. ‘I’ll … leave you now.’

Varric buried his head in his hands. ‘Oh, what have you done this time?’

‘Me?’ Dorian looked like innocence personified. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘He’ll make a fool of himself! I’d better go after him.’

To Varric’s surprise, Leliana stopped him. ‘I don’t think so. Let him go.’

‘If he screws this up because he’s drunk …’

Leliana watched Cole barge out through the door. ‘He’s a bit tipsy. Perhaps just enough to give him the courage to take the next step. We both know Lenka won’t do it. She’s too shy.’ Varric sighed and remained seated. ‘I think I’ll retire, too. I am … more affected than I thought I’d be.’ She cast Dorian a look. ‘And you. Don’t be too reserved. Take your own advice and go get him.’

‘Did you listen?’ The mage looked scandalised. ‘You were talking to Cole all the time, how could you listen?’

The red-haired woman winked at him. ‘I may be drunk, but I’m still a bard.’ She ambled out, passing the Bull, whose eyes settled on her butt as she moved. She turned and tutted at him while winking at the same time.

Dorian scratched his head. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d believe she can read minds. Bard indeed.’

Ϡ

Lenkala barely heard the soft knock on her door. She was torn between curiosity and annoyance at the disturbance. She’d just been about to fall asleep. Sighing, she lit the lamp on her nightstand with a small spell. ‘It’s open,’ she said then, prepared to hear about the next catastrophe.

Somehow, Lenkala had expected Cullen. When she saw Cole standing in the doorframe, a smile tugged on her lips. ‘Hey. Come in.’

Silently, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He approached with measured steps, his eyes fixed on hers. Her heart beat faster with every step he took until he was right there. When he knelt on the floor before her, she was glad she wasn’t standing. Her knees would have given. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’ His voice was quiet but there was an urgency in the way he spoke. ‘I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t … I can’t stay away.’ His hands came to rest on her shoulders and travelled up to cup her face. ‘I want to kiss you again.’

Lenkala only managed to nod. His lips went to hers, first tentative, then more firmly. She felt his tongue whispering over her lips and she almost moaned. Without hesitation, Lenkala’s lips opened and for what felt like an eternity, their tongues danced. At the edge of her mind she registered that through their touch he felt all she wanted, and she blushed. He pulled away, breathing hard. ‘I want it, too,’ he whispered and shifted, pushing her onto the bed. Before he could kiss her again, she managed to keep him at least far enough away for her to speak.

‘Wait … Cole, one moment.’

He looked expectant, eager. His cheeks were reddened, his eyes wide with lust and burning with emotion. She’d never seen anything more beautiful. ‘Yes.’

‘I … don’t get this wrong. I taste the wine on you. And that’s all right, but I can’t … I won’t take advantage of you.’

He tilted his head, not moving away an inch. His body was warm, so warm, and she could feel the heat centred in his groin. If he moved any closer, she was sure she would feel his erection. She could smell the arousal and felt the same, wanted nothing more than to let this happen. ‘Advantage?’ he asked. And he did move closer.

Her eyes fell shut and her hips bucked involuntarily. ‘Creators, I want you, Cole. But … wine does things to people. I want to be sure you’re ready. And right now … this would be so wrong, Cole. I’d feel like I’m using you.’

He eyed her for almost a minute, obviously assessing if what she said matched what she thought. In the end, he nodded. ‘I cannot let you feel what I do, help you sense me as I sense you. I wish I could.’

Lenkala smiled at him. ‘Would you mind … ah … not making this so difficult?’ His sex was straining against his clothes, and every fibre of her body screamed at Lenka to free him. Against her will and better judgement, Lenkala looked down between them and saw the bulge.

He shifted, giving her some space. ‘Can I stay here?’ He was next to her now, one arm propping up Cole’s head, the other hand on her stomach. ‘Please. I just want to be with you.’

Lenkala nodded and settled properly on her bed again. She pulled the sheets aside, inviting him. Cole moved close, laying his head on his angled arm. ‘Can I hold you, Lenka?’ She nodded and settled in a gentle embrace. His nose dug into her hair and he inhaled deeply.

‘Good night,’ she whispered, feeling safer than she wanted to admit. She was still full of desire, but slowly, she calmed.

Cole sighed, a sound so sweet and content she knew that this truly was what he wanted, wine or no wine. ‘Sleep well, sweet soul.’

Ϡ

Stealth was not usually a problem for Leliana. But she had drunk too much too fast, and now she was facing the problem that she had to get into bed trying not to wake Jowan. Not waking him meant no ward tonight, but she doubted anyone would attack them. They’d been targeted before, and so far neither Constance nor Flemeth had tried anyone twice.

Leliana managed to make it to the bed without a sound. For a few seconds she contemplated the relaxed features of the sleeping man and she couldn’t help smiling. Pulling away the covers, she lay down gingerly and turned to her side. Jowan shifted but didn’t wake up. She was quite proud.

The reason why Leliana rarely drank was that she couldn’t sleep when she did. This would be a long night. Her mind didn’t stop wandering. It travelled to Dorian and Fenris. Love that overcame such a terrible past. A fairy-tale … In a world dominated by scorn and meanness, a world full of slavers and torture, true love could still work wonders. Lost causes were worth a struggle. A fairy-tale …

A sound, hardly audible, tore Leliana from her meandering thoughts. She opened one eye, but nothing was there at the door. She closed it again, focussing on her other senses. There was a light whisper of shifting air, something else … a presence more felt than heard. Slowly, Leliana slipped one hand under her pillow. It closed around cold steel. She was tensed, ready to jump. When she actually heard a soft breath, she let herself roll out of bed and under it. There was nothing, no movement of the shadows. But they were wrong. There was someone there, casting a shadow where none would be if the room were empty, cast from the foot of the bed. The bard shot out from under it and tackled the stranger. Instantly, she pulled herself on top of them and placed her knife at the neck. ‘Hello, Constance,’ she said casually. ‘Fancy meeting you.’ With a quick movement, she knocked her out. Ignoring the unconscious woman, Leliana walked to the door and called a guard before going back inside and watching the priest. Another movement caught her attention, and she looked at Jowan, sitting up and wiping over half-closed eyes.

‘Something the matter?’ he asked.

‘Have a look,’ Leliana suggested, grinning.

The mage moved forwards. His eyes widened when he saw the woman. ‘Oh.’ He looked back at Leliana. ‘How’d that happen?’

‘Window.’

Jowan nodded. ‘Ah. Quite the feat. Another ward, then.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘You know what?’ Awake now, Jowan walked over to Constance and contemplated her cowl. He pulled it off with a fluid motion. Underneath it, there was an unfamiliar face. A shock of discoloured, thin hair covered her head, her skin pale and dry and wrinkled. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Jowan recoil. ‘You know her?’ she asked quietly.

‘I …’ He swallowed and looked at her squarely. ‘No. And I never did. She is no-one of significance. Put her in the dungeon.’ Jowan walked over to the window and stared stubbornly outside. A guard arrived and collected the still unconscious priest. Leliana closed the door behind him and walked over to her husband.

‘Jowan?’

He looked down at her, dark-grey eyes almost black in the night. ‘Don’t ever ask me if I wish things were different. You’d break my heart.’ He shivered and walked back to their bed.

‘She’s Lily, isn’t she?’ Leliana asked.

For almost a minute, Jowan remained silent. ‘No,’ he said then. ‘She is doubt, Cole said. I don’t know if she ever was anything else. And I really don’t care.’

‘Are you … all right?’

‘Aeonar either corrupted something in her or she let a demon in. I don’t know which. But I know that I am the happiest man alive.’ He sat up again and patted the space next to him. Leliana sat down at his side, watching him closely. ‘Because I’ve found someone who actually loves me. Me, not an ideal I can’t be. Ever since that, it’s a lot harder to regret. One way or another, Lily chose her own path. As I chose mine.’

 

 


	22. Shackled Minds

When you knew Skyhold, it was easy. You didn’t have to be invisible. There were very few places you couldn’t go into unnoticed. The kitchens were one of these rare parts of the castle. The dungeons were not.

Cole knew the perfect way to get in unseen. He could also get out. He’d never tell any of the prisoners. He wouldn’t tell the guards, either, however.

He stood before the cell and glanced inside. The eyes of the old-looking woman were fixed on a place beyond him. She knew he was there. There was no way she could miss him. She simply didn’t acknowledge him.

The news that Constance had been captured had travelled like wildfire. Most people here weren’t too chantry-friendly, so there was little complaint. Especially since the fact that she was responsible for most of the fights that had broken out recently was no secret either. She had been force-fed magebane. She wasn’t a mage, but the demon within her would be just as incapacitated by it.

Cole got to work on the lock. It wasn’t a difficult one. Why should it be? The prisoners had no equipment that could get them out. The guards had keys and let no-one come to visit alone. The lock clicked, the door was open. Cole slipped inside soundlessly. ‘Constance, you know I am here. Why pretend?’

‘You are not real. You do not exist.’

‘You killed my friends.’

‘Your mage friend killed the templar bitch. Traitor.’

The words had such venom Cole flinched. Something sinister reared in his soul, a wish to cause pain and fear and agony in this woman. ‘You controlled him!’ His hands had balled into fists, his nails digging painfully into his skin.

‘I only brought out what was already in him,’ the woman said. ‘It is nothing he wasn’t familiar with.’

Cole swallowed. He knelt beside her. Constance didn’t even try to flee. ‘Look at me,’ he said. His right hand closed around his dagger. ‘Look into my eyes.’

Ϡ

The pair of elves, daggers drawn, stepped into the training grounds. Dorian fell silent in mid-sentence, exchanging a glance with Fenris. They’d been alone now, since most people were still having lunch. Not these two, however. Something seemed odd. The mage wasn’t certain what it was, but he’d find out. ‘So,’ Núria said. ‘Who wants to try us?’

‘I will,’ Dorian said. He had watched their approach from the castle, had watched their pretty much expressionless faces. The pair were usually friendly enough, Núria could turn into the elven equivalent of a rage demon with little provocation, but he’d never her without any readable emotion. With Constance under lock and key, this had to be something else. He’d be buggered if he knew what.

‘Dorian …’ Fenris’s warning was little more than a growl.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said quietly. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had noticed that something wasn’t quite normal. He leaned to the side, his lips brushing Fenris’s ear. ‘Please do me a favour and find Solas for me.’

‘Dorian …’ The elf half turned, green eyes brimming with concern.

‘Do that later, would you? We’ve come to fight, not to watch you doing Fenris.’ The Antivan’s voice sounded harsh, not quite like usual. Yes, he was an assassin and there were moments where he seemed horribly cold. But he was a good man, deep down. Very deep, some would say.

‘Got to kiss my man good-bye, no?’ Dorian said before he lowered his voice again. ‘Listen, Fenris, I think I’ll need help. I don’t doubt that you can take them both. But I don’t want them to get hurt.’

The elf stood abruptly and glared at Dorian. ‘Well, I’m not yours to command, mage. Face them alone.’

With that, he strode off and Dorian shrugged. He hoped to whatever deity there might be that Fenris was acting. He was tough to read, sometimes. ‘Well, then don’t,’ he called after him and sauntered into the arena. ‘Show me what you’ve got.’

The two assassins circled him, the distance between them growing. Soon, it was difficult for the mage to keep an eye on them both. ‘Are you trying to do some sort of Fereldan dance or do you want to fight?’ he asked.

Núria was the first to attack. He dodged her quickly and hurled a spell that was little more than an expanding force-field after her. It caught her in her back and made her stumble. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘normally when we spar we use blunt weapons.’

Zevran leered at him. ‘In a real fight, no-one does.’

‘So this is a real fight? Why did you pick it?’ Dorian dodged another attack, this time from Zevran. The Antivan yelled with frustration. They could do better than this … if they wanted, they could tear him apart, assuming he didn’t protect himself. The spell for a barrier was ready in a portion of his mind. It would take him less than a second to cast it.

‘You volunteered.’

‘There was just me and Fenris here, and we clearly didn’t intend to fight. We were talking.’ A thought struck him, and even though he didn’t believe it, he had to ask. ‘Is that it? You don’t like two men being together?’

‘We don’t care who you fuck,’ Núria said casually. It seemed crude, the way she put it. So far, they hadn’t … well, fucked. But that was a matter of time. They both wanted to.

Dorian swore if he survived this, that would be the first thing he did. ‘No? Then what? Don’t like Tevinter?’

‘You’ve got my hahren!’ Suddenly, the fury on the warden’s face knew no bounds. Again, she ran at him, but her anger blinded her. He didn’t even have to evade much. Still, when he saw Zevran coming at him as well, Dorian did cast his barrier. He decide to ponder her accusation later. Now he had to stay alive. Not that this seemed as impossible as before.

‘Coward! Hiding behind magic. Think it will save you?’

He raised an eyebrow at Zevran. ‘Actually, I do. But you’re not fighting! Why? Attack me, for crying out loud.’ He had no intention to harm the two elves, but even the more drastic defensive spells seemed overly crude.

‘Want to die so soon?’

‘No, really, I’d just like to finish you two without feeling too worked up over it.’ He cast a slight bolt of lightning at Zevran. The two were standing so close that he caught her as well. Both came running with murder in their eyes, and Dorian took a step backwards, leaving a glyph on the ground. They were trapped. ‘What is this about? I don’t have your … your hahren, whatever that is. I’m not a thief!’

‘You must attack us!’

‘I just did.’

A spell caught them both and hurled them off the glyph and out of the arena. Solas came, robes billowing behind him. He was muttering under his breath, eyes half closed. Fenris was a step behind him and positioned himself next to Dorian. He drew his sword and glared at the two figures on the ground. ‘Are you done?’ Solas asked.

Zevran and Núria exchanged a glance. ‘I … what?’

‘I think you can relax,’ Dorian said. ‘So. What was this about?’

‘They do not remember,’ Solas told him. ‘You were under an influence. You tried to get Dorian to kill you.’

‘Why would we do that?’ Zevran’s voice was clipped and sharp, but it had none of the hatred of before.

‘You were under Mythal’s influence.’

‘Mythal,’ Núria echoed. ‘Why would Mythal do anything of that sort?’

‘She needs to feed.’ The elven mage sat down and they followed suit. ‘We need to figure out whom she is using. None of you. That much is certain.’

‘Using … as in possessing?’

Solas nodded. ‘Something very similar. Who has been attacked … or controlled, as it were, by Mythal?’

‘How do we tell those from Constance’s victims?’ Dorian asked.

The elf looked at him. ‘Constance used people to destroy others. Mythal’s targets destroy themselves.

Zevran nodded. ‘Ah. Vivienne, then,’ he said. ‘Varric. Rhys, but he attacked Evangeline.’

Núria looked at her lover. ‘Well, I don’t think there’s a rule saying that one person cannot be influenced by them both. Is there, Solas?’

‘No. No, there isn’t. It may be that Rhys was already under Constance’s spell, and that Mythal latched on to his weakened mind, finding him easy prey.’

‘Tell us why Mythal would do that.’

‘Self-preservation is a powerful instinct, Dorian. Do not underestimate it. Mythal has little choice but to feed off others. I offered myself, but she refused, perhaps because she feared she would destroy me, as well. She wouldn’t have, I could have told her. I intend to do so now. She must continue. I cannot let her perish. I cannot let her destroy other lives, either. When she recovers, she will suffer more for everyone that died because of her. I need to end this.’

Fenris folded his arm. ‘I’d know a way. Find who she’s possessing and kill them.’

‘That would only be one more death. Mythal would find someone else and be more cautious. No. It needs to be done my way.’

Dorian raised his arms. ‘And what way is that?’

‘Well. I believe it is safe to assume that the possessed person is a mage. I thought it might be you, but that cannot be. She wouldn’t have risked you dying at the two assassins’ hands. I am positive it is not Lenkala.’

Zevran raised a hand. ‘Why? Let’s not jump to conclusions.’

‘Cole is too close to her not to notice. He might miss a possession in a random person now that he is no longer a spirit, but not in her.’

‘I think he’s right,’ Dorian said. ‘Cole would know.’

Zevran shrugged. ‘All right. Not Lenkala. Not Dorian. Not Rhys or Vivienne, obviously. Jowan or Darya, then. Jowan seems likely.’

Solas looked at the arena, his eyes distant. After a while, he shook his head. ‘I … do not think so. Jowan took Mythal’s knowledge. He would _know_ if he were possessed.’ The bald mage looked at them all, his eyes as old as the world. ‘I believe it must be Darya. I feared it from the start, but I had hope that it is you, Dorian. I wish it had been you.’

Dorian tilted his head. ‘That a jibe at me being a Tevinter mage? I didn’t think it of you.’

Solas locked eyes with him and he knew that wasn’t it at all. Still, the elf answered. ‘No, Dorian. But you are human.’ He stood. ‘Zevran, Núria … Darya knows and trusts you. Please persuade her to let me work with her. If I am to save both her and Mythal, she needs to cooperate and she needs to trust me. Otherwise, they could both be lost.’

Dorian and Fenris remained alone when the other three walked away. The mage looked at the man next to him and remembered his previous thought. ‘Ah, Fenris …’

The elf shook off an obviously unpleasant thought and nodded. Even sitting, he had to look up at Dorian. His height and the slender frame might fool someone into believing he was weak. A deadly mistake. ‘Yes?’ The deep voice did things to Dorian. Even that one word, the way it was delivered, had the potential to shatter him into a thousand pieces.

‘I must be ill,’ Dorian said quietly. ‘I am addicted, that’s for sure. The way I drink in every word you say to me.’

A small smile tugged at Fenris’s lips. Dorian brushed his fingertips over the chiselled face, tracing the lyrium lines and watching for pain. Fenris’s eyes closed, but he looked relaxed. Encouraged by the response, he pressed his lips to Fenris’s. For the first time, he let his tongue sweep out, teasing, asking for more. With a sigh, Fenris melted against him. His mouth opened and Dorian thought he’d drown. The world could have fallen apart around him then, Fenris was kissing him back with fervour, their hands exploring, seeking skin … Dorian’s fingers twined in Fenris’s hair, and at once, the elf went rigid. Dorian pulled away immediately. The terror on Fenris’s face went right into his gut. ‘Fenris … look at me, please. Tell me what’s wrong.’

The eyes opened with what looked like a horrible effort. For one moment they were dead, then haunted. ‘I am sorry.’ The elf stood abruptly and would have bolted if Dorian hadn’t shot after him.

He fell into step beside the other man. ‘Hey! Talk to me, at least, so I can be sure I don’t do it again, whatever it was.’

‘I shouldn’t … I am too damaged.’

‘Poppycock.’ Dorian swallowed. ‘We’ll work through this together. If … you want to.’

Finally, Fenris stopped walking. ‘With Hawke … we both had rules.’

‘Then tell me what those rules are,’ Dorian offered. ‘What can’t I do, Fenris? Help me.’

Fenris turned away and brought more distance between them. ‘You can’t … grab my hair.’ The deep voice was hardly audible. Torn between needing to hear him and not wanting to scare Fenris by moving closer, Dorian inched half a step nearer.

‘All right.’

‘I cannot … I cannot … service you.’

‘Service me … Fenris, I have no idea what you mean.’ That was a lie. He was pretty sure what Fenris meant, but he wanted him to spell it out. Wanted Fenris to confront his fears.

‘I cannot … suck you.’                                                           

Dorian folded his arms and nodded. ‘All right. Can I suck you?’ At this Fenris turned sharply and stared. ‘What? I thought we’re doing rules here.’

‘Yes … but … you wouldn’t.’

‘Oh, and how I would. I assume I cannot take you either. You’re welcome to take me.’ If anything, Fenris’s eyes went wider still. ‘Maker’s balls, what _did_ you and Hawke do?’

‘I let him take me. He never wanted me to … he said he didn’t like it.’

Somehow the _let him_ -part made Dorian want to punch Hawke. ‘Then he either had a very bad experience of he was scared. Bottoming can be good even for the most resolute tops when it’s done right.’ He smirked. ‘There’s nothing better, when you’re bone-weary, want closeness but don’t want to do the work yourself. Just lie there and let him do you.’ He made a face. ‘At least, so I’ve heard. In fact, all I’ve had was a dick shoved in me in a darkened room before hastily getting dressed again. Not that that can’t be fun, but suddenly it doesn’t seem anywhere near enough. Any other rules, Fenris?’

‘No.’

‘Well. Then let’s stick to these.’

‘Why bother?’

‘Because …’ Dorian looked at him. He stepped close enough to feel Fenris’s heat. ‘Because I care about you. Because … I just want to be with you. In any way you allow me.’

 

 


	23. You Leave No Place for Hiding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is from Delain’s song Silhouette of a Dancer.))

Lenkala had woken up alone. All day, there was no sign of Cole. She wasn’t entirely surprised. Cole might need to analyse what had happened and why. She used the time for preparing for Constance’s trial. This once, it would be a death sentence. She couldn’t let this woman live. She’d have murdered her herself, if that were an option. But there were too many eyes on the Inquisition. There had to be justice. Not tyranny.

What she needed was to talk to Cole. Perhaps send him to Constance to get something useful out of her. She doubted the woman would talk, but Cole might sense something. Convincing herself that she wasn’t clinging to an excuse to find him, she went to look for him. She found him in his spot in the tavern, sitting on the floor with his back against one of the crates. He had his dagger in his hand, playing with it and looking distant. ‘Ah … Cole?’

His eyes met hers. ‘Yes?’

‘Can I talk to you?’

‘Aren’t you?’

She smiled and sat beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. ‘I missed you in the morning.’

‘I wasn’t sure if I could stay.’

Lenkala looked up at him. ‘Always, Cole.’

‘I still want the same thing,’ he said quietly. ‘Without wine.’

Lenkala swallowed and smiled. ‘Good.’

‘Will I hurt you? Dorian said I would but I shouldn’t worry.’

Lenkala let out a short laugh. ‘Creators … between him and Varric. You won’t hurt me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Did they tell you why?’ He nodded. ‘Then you understand why you won’t?’ Another nod. ‘Does that bother you?’

The dagger clattered to the floor and warm hands took hold of her face. ‘No,’ he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. ‘I was afraid. Now I’m not.’ Lenkala smiled and kissed Cole. ‘I need to tell you something,’ he said then, throwing a furtive glance at his dagger.

‘Anything.’

‘I cannot … I tried to punish her. But I couldn’t.’

For a moment, Lenkala was lost. Then it hit her. ‘You went to the dungeons to kill Constance … but you didn’t?’

Cole shook his head. ‘Yes.’ She knew him well enough to understand. Yes, he went to see her. No, he didn’t kill her.

‘And why?’ She thought she knew. But she was fairly certain Cole didn’t. When the young man didn’t answer, she smiled. ‘You pitied her, Cole.’

‘She is a monster. I shouldn’t.’

‘For a spirit, it’s easy. You’ve become too human to shut out when you cause pain. In a battle it’s different. There’s a very immediate threat, and only one answer. This, though … she’s under control and detained. She cannot currently hurt anyone.’ She swallowed. ‘I’ll sentence her to die, Cole. I cannot let her walk. She will keep doing this. I cannot keep her in a cell and risk her getting out and taking more lives.’

‘I want her to die. For making Rhys kill Evangeline. But I don’t want to kill her.’

Lenkala ran her hand through his hair. ‘You won’t. Cullen will. I think he won’t be too worked up.’

Ϡ

‘Constance, you are accused of using magic or something akin to it to get into people’s heads and forcing them into an altercation with a potentially lethal outcome,’ Lenkala said. ‘What do you have to say?’

The woman stood before her proud and tall. ‘I want my cowl.’

‘No. Answer.’

‘You sent me a demon overnight.’

‘The only demon is the one in your head.’ Lenkala folded her arms. ‘I ask only one more time. What do have to say in your defence?’

‘ _Blessed are they who stand before_ _The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter._ _Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just._ ’

‘I don’t believe in your God.’

‘Then you will die.’

Lenkala shook her head. ‘Did you cause Evangeline’s death by getting into Rhys’s head?’

‘She was a mage’s whore. She had to die. Like the Orlesian bitch. She’ll get the same.’

Cole tensed at his spot by the door. For a moment, Lenkala thought he would either bolt or attack, but he did neither. Instead he just looked away, lips tight. Varric walked over to him and talked to him in an undertone. Leliana was complete unperturbed by the woman’s outburst. Jowan was obviously livid but too controlled to interfere. ‘Constance, I see no remorse in you. You’d do it all over again, and I cannot let you go. I sentence you to die, to be carried out immediately.’ Cullen stood at attention and led her away. One problem off her shoulders.

Ϡ

During the trial, Fenris had been conspicuous by his absence. Usually, these occasions brought almost all of Skyhold together, so Dorian was slightly worried. When he didn’t find the elf in his quarters, either, he decided to panic if he didn’t show up by lunch. When he ran into him in the library, sitting in the chair Dorian usually occupied, he was more relieved than he cared to admit. ‘There you are. You missed Constance’s tantrum.’

‘I don’t like trials, even less when the outcome is clear. She didn’t deserve even this. The kindness of a quick and easy death.’

‘Ah, Fenris. It isn’t that simple.’

‘I know. Too many eyes on the Inquisition that would call it injustice. They still might say she was a holy woman who was killed by an infidel.’ He made a face and closed the book he’d been holding. It was the very one Dorian had thrown over the banister. Solas had brought it back and Dorian had never touched it again. ‘That was on your desk. Is this what you truly think?’

The mage scowled. ‘Now listen here …’ He swallowed, noticing he had the very tone his father would have used on a naughty slave, and wanted to punch himself. ‘Oh, Fenris, dear man. No, I don’t believe this. I hate every word it says, and I truly thought you know this.’ He took the book from Fenris’s unresisting hands and threw it onto the desk. ‘It lay there because I read it a while ago. But I don’t think slavery is the answer to anything. Not anymore.’

Perhaps he had actually sounded more pained than angry, because Fenris rose and walked over to him, his expression serious. ‘Dorian … the question was uncalled for. I apologise.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘I would like to … go somewhere more private.’

The simple words made Dorian dizzy. He checked himself quickly. He had no idea how far Fenris was willing to let this go. He managed a nod and followed the elf silently to his quarters. Once inside, he pulled him near and kissed him, resisting the urge to pin him against the wall. Strong hands gripped Dorian’s clothes, tugging. ‘Fenris … wait,’ he managed. ‘Rules.’

‘Do you have any to add?’

‘Maker, no. Still. I want you to know I remember them and will act accordingly. And you’ve got to tell me if there’s more. Promise me you won’t clam up on me and shove me away and out of your life without a word.’ He received a short nod. ‘One more thing. I want a safe word. Not for me, for you. A way for you to communicate to me to stop.’

Fenris smiled, the green eyes warm as a lawn in summer. ‘I will ask you, I don’t need a fancy word. Take off your clothes.’

Dorian swallowed and followed the instruction. Fenris was eyeing him with an intensity that turned his cheeks red. Foolish, he never blushed. ‘I must say I’d feel less expose if you weren’t so horribly overdressed.’

‘Sit down.’

Dorian obeyed. Under his gaze, Fenris undressed. It wasn’t too obviously a show, but he knew that he was teasing. By the time he was done, Dorian was rock hard. He beckoned Fenris closer, and when the elf wanted to sit, he shook his head. ‘Stay like that,’ he said, his voice rough. He inched forwards to the edge of the bed. ‘You’re beautiful.’ He reached out and up, running his hands down the slender torso until they rested on his hips. He pulled, steering Fenris closer. ‘I want to taste you, if I may.’ The only reason why his hands weren’t shaking was that they were still resting on his soon to be lover. The barely perceptible nod was enough. Risking to drown in the deep green ponds that were Fenris’s eyes, he closed his lips around the elf’s cock. He sensed Fenris’s insecurity, but with every time he sucked him inside a little bit of it melted away. He saw a hand closing to a fist and opening again, and decided to be bold. Going down all the way, he took the hand and placed it on top of his head. Fenris didn’t resist, caressed him, and tangled his fingers into Dorian’s hair, doing the very thing he couldn’t suffer. He groaned when Dorian swirled his tongue around the tip of his sex. Dorian let him go with a popping sound and stood, pulling Fenris close. Their groins pressed together, and Fenris moved against him. ‘I like doing that, Fenris. I like to give you pleasure. It’s not demeaning, it’s expressing my desire and …’ He swallowed. ‘I want to give you my all. That’s why I don’t need rules.’

Fenris looked at him, his expression very serious. ‘I’m starting to think I may not always need them. Do you remember what you offered to me?’

Dorian licked his lips. ‘I am not certain what you mean. Name whatever you want, it is yours.’ He sat on the bed again, and Fenris followed, covering him with his body.

‘I want to make love to you.’ Hot lips rested on Dorian’s neck, kissing, licking, nibbling at his skin.

‘Maker. Yes, Fenris.’ He angled his legs, nesting Fenris closer in an agonising touch.

‘I have never done this. I don’t want to hurt you.’

‘You know the mechanics, you won’t hurt me. There’s oil in the drawer … yes, that’s the one.’ He kissed Fenris wildly, forcing himself not to rut against him and end this way too soon. ‘Fenris? Do something. Anything, at this point. This is torture. The good kind, but still.’

Ϡ

Fenris’s heart was racing, not just from arousal. Fear was the wrong word. He knew fear, and that wasn’t it. He was nervous, more nervous than he ever remembered himself being. He knew how to fight, he knew how to kill, but he had no idea how to do this. He’d been on the receiving end … but now … ‘Hey. Do you need time? We don’t have to do this, there are so many other ways.’ Dorian’s words were so gentle, so warm.

‘No.’ He sat back on his haunches and coated himself with the oil. It had a mild scent Fenris couldn’t place. It was actually quite pleasant. Looking at the man underneath him, at the moustache that that twitched when his finger slipped inside, at the teeth worrying at the lower lip, at the undulating hips, the for a mage muscular body. He saw the heavy cock twitch and a drop of clear fluid leaking from it and had the wild desire to lick it away. He was momentarily shocked. ‘Dorian … I want to … ah.’

‘Anything, Fenris. I can’t imagine anything I’d object to.’

He didn’t believe he was doing this, but Fenris bent down and caught the bit of liquid with the tip of his tongue. It tasted a little salty. Dorian’s scent filled his nostrils, and before he could reconsider, Fenris took him in his mouth while he put a second finger inside him. Dorian let out a loud moan and thrust up. He was starting to apologise, but Fenris started sucking on him in earnest, and whatever he wanted to say became an incoherent mumbling. All nervousness was gone, all that counted was this man, what they shared … what he did to him without even trying. Fenris only let go when he felt Dorian’s balls tighten. ‘Not yet you don’t,’ he said. He hardly recognised his own voice.

Dorian’s hair was a mess from thrashing, his hands had grabbed the pillow in need. Fenris didn’t feel humiliated. If anything, he felt empowered because of the reaction he got out of the mage. His control was gone, he was rock hard and completely trusted Fenris. The muscle that was wrapped around his fingers was open and ready for more. Fenris wanted nothing more than to oblige him.

He scrambled up and rammed his mouth on Dorian’s. The mage’s hands grabbed him, fingers digging into his shoulders. His guard was gone, he was open … the façade shattered to reveal a vulnerable, affectionate man. ‘Come on. Do it, Fenris. I want it so bad.’ The words were spoken against his mouth, turning the kiss sloppy and wet. Fenris reached down and slid inside. There was almost no resistance. Dorian made a sound between a moan and a wail, his face a mask of pure bliss.

All Fenris could do while he took him was watch and listen to his lover’s responses. He had never felt so close to anyone, and he knew neither had Dorian. For a moment something like guilt nudged at him, guilt that he had never been so at ease with Hawke, but he quickly shook it off. Hawke would have wanted him to move on. It was the first time Fenris’s lyrium lines weren’t rebelling against the closeness. If anything, they tingled, adding to his pleasure. Dorian had taken his constant pain and turned it into bliss. Dorian … a mage, a Tevinter noble, giving himself to him. Fenris stared at the man’s face, the half-lidded eyes, the flush on his cheeks. He kissed him, sucking on the soft moist tongue and knowing he had never tasted anything sweeter.

Fenris clung to him and groaned as he moved in him. Given their state of arousal, their movements quickly turned frantic. Dorian shouted his name and his fingers gripped the sheets so hard Fenris heard them tear, and his ass clenched him too tightly. Fenris exploded inside of him, thrusting through the sensation, wanting it to last, to be buried in this wonderful warmth forever.

Ϡ

‘Look,’ Zevran tried. ‘Solas is a very old elf, and he knows how to help you.’

‘No.’ Darya had her hands folded in front of her. ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Do you remember how you passed out? He can find out why.’

‘No!’ Her voice was suddenly shrill. ‘Not Solas! Daddy can help me.’

Núria tried. ‘I don’t think he can. We’ll talk to him, too, but we wanted to ask you first.’ She was starting to think it was a mistake not to go to Jowan and Leliana first. But the bard wasn’t too willing to trust the elf after his abrupt disappearance. Jowan would never object if Darya wanted Solas’s help. That, however, seemed to be out of the question. ‘Why don’t you want to talk to Solas? Are you afraid? We can go with you.’

At least, Darya seemed to consider that possibility. ‘He’s weird.’

‘All mages are weird,’ Zevran replied. ‘You’re a mage, too. I’m sure he’ll explain everything he does to you. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he wants to help.’

‘I’m not sick, I don’t need help.’

Núria and Zevran exchanged a glance. ‘You’re not sick, but something is trying to use you. He can protect you from them.’ They had agreed that if all else failed, they’d tell her the truth, at least a simplified version. ‘Remember all the fighting? The thing making people angry is trying to do that through you.’ That it wasn’t just trying but succeeding wasn’t necessary for the child to know right now.

‘But Daddy would know that. He knows things.’

‘Your daddy knows a lot,’ Zevran said gently. ‘But this isn’t something he can.’ The truth was, he should. But he very likely wouldn’t want to, and if faith could move mountains, so could stubbornness. There was a good chance he simply refused to consider the possibility. Bloody _shemlen_.

For a moment, Darya was almost swayed. Then she glared at them both. ‘No! I said no. I won’t let him grope my head and take what isn’t his!’ She ran away, and the two elves sighed in unison.

‘Jowan then,’ Zevran said.

Núria nodded. ‘Is it me or didn’t she sound quite like herself there in the end?’

Zevran looked in the direction the girl had raced off. ‘Indeed. Seems Flemeth is getting a harder grip on her. Not good. We’ve got to stop her.’

‘I don’t like this, Zev. I have a really bad feeling about it.’

He turned his gaze on her and licked his lips. ‘Me too. I like the lack of alternatives even less. Flemeth must go. I am worried about the mess she will leave behind.’

 

 


	24. The Cruelty of the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading from Within Temptation’s The Truth Beneath the Rose. My choice actually holds a reference to DA2 dialogue, but that may be the kind of thing I’ll fail to remember after a few days.))

Fenris sorted through his things, tossing some aside, some into a pack. He felt numb, or at least he tried to ignore the small voice screaming against a gale of emotion that he was a coward and didn’t deserve the happiness he was throwing away. There were dragon teeth he felt would be theft to take. Some other things he believed he had earned, a fine dagger among them. He wasn’t a dagger person, but sometimes it could be handy.

A crossbow bolt thudded into the desk. Fenris almost yelled before he turned. Varric leaned against the doorframe, ready to fire again. He wasn’t aiming at Fenris, but if he didn’t know the dwarf so well he would be alarmed. He was also glad that he was such an excellent marksman. ‘Can I help you?’ Varric’s tone was pleasant. Too pleasant. ‘Make sure you’re not forgetting anything? I could pin you to the wall to give you time to think.’

‘What do you want?’ His tone was supposed to be annoyed, but he only sounded weary, even to himself.

‘I want you to realise that Dorian isn’t Hawke. He’s not going to wait for three years until you come to your senses. He’ll go home, and he’ll be miserable for the rest of his life. How dare you, Fenris?’

‘Don’t project your own hurt feelings on me.’

Varric’s eyes narrowed. He’d never before seen the dwarf angry, he realised. That was enough to give him pause. ‘I don’t get why you’re running away this time. I understood it then because you were in a horribly dark place and needed to get yourself sorted out. But this is just cruel. I didn’t think it of you.’ He fired again, missing Fenris by a foot.

‘Are you insane? You don’t scare me.’

‘I’m not trying to scare you, I’m trying vent on the furniture rather than you. Why are you doing this? Better go back and literally rip his heart out. You don’t seem to have a problem doing it metaphorically. Or is that your thing? Screw someone and then abandon them? Seems like a pattern to me.’

‘Are you spying on me?’

‘No, idiot. I met Dorian in the morning at breakfast. He looked like bliss turned flesh, seemed to think you’ll come and meet him any moment.’ Varric shook his head, shoulders hunched, and slumped to a chair. He placed Bianca on the table beside it and Fenris felt a more relieved than he cared to admit. ‘I don’t get it. I really don’t. I warned him to stay away from you because I thought he’d hurt you. Imagine that.’

Something twisted in Fenris's gut, something that felt a lot like guilt, and the voice telling him not to run got almost too loud to ignore. ‘I just … can’t.’

‘Heard that line before, though not from you directly. Why, Fenris? Dorian’s going to ask me, and I want to be able to give him an answer.’

‘Or you’ll shoot me?’

‘Just tell me.’ Varric waited patiently, but the problem was that Fenris had no answer. He turned away. ‘So yeah, he’s a mage. He’s also a man. And if I’m any judge, he’s done something you’re failing to do. He’s opened his heart to you.’

‘He’ll leave. He’ll feel the pull eventually and go and I will be alone.’

‘Somehow I don’t think so. Did you ask him?’

‘He … hinted that he’d decided I was worth staying here.’

Varric snorted. ‘Boy, was he wrong. And you’re not taking his word because …’

Fenris spun back around and glared at Varric. ‘Because … Just look around you! What is happening here, and why? Tell me that. Tell me why this Inquisition even exists.’

Varric rose abruptly and stood only an inch away from Fenris. Even though he was much shorter, the elf almost receded before he caught himself. ‘Wrong question. If you want to ask one, it should be why Dorian is a part of it and not of the venatori. Know what? I’ll answer my own question: You’re hurting him because Hawke couldn’t keep it in his pants and because Danarius had you leashed like a dog.’

Fenris felt the blood drain from his face. Varric swallowed and looked away. He obviously hadn’t meant to reveal that he knew that little detail. In the end, it didn’t matter. He had been there when Danarius had spoken of Fenris's talented hands, and his own reaction had revealed just what he had been apart from a bodyguard. Varric knew the darkest parts of his past. The dwarf placed a calloused hand on Fenris’s arm. ‘Look. I was first going to let you vanish. But Dorian’s cottoned on after you disappeared for half a day. He asked me when you’d be back, but what he really wanted to know was if, not when. Just … be aware you won’t get a second chance this time if you don’t change your mind fast.’

‘He didn’t even look for me.’

‘He’s a proud man. He won’t run after you, and you shouldn’t expect him to. You wouldn’t do it either.’ Varric picked up Bianca. ‘Your choice. Good luck, Broody, whichever you decide.’

‘He deserves better.’

Varric smiled. ‘Depends. He deserves better than being dumped like that. He deserves better than that you stay because I say so. If you stay, do it because you love him.’

‘He doesn’t even know what that is.’

‘You sure? I’m starting to wonder if you know. Got another tough question for you: Did you love Hawke?’

‘Varric, I’m warning you.’ He activated his lyrium for emphasis.

Varric snorted. ‘Yeah. Let’s skip the part where I pretend to be afraid of you. I’m not saying that you and Hawke didn’t work is your fault because I don’t think that. But … did you love him?’

It struck Fenris then that he had never said the words. Not to Hawke at least. ‘I … don’t think it needs saying. The words mean nothing. I said them long ago to avoid punishment.’

‘You’re one hell of a piece of work, my friend. I’ll still take that as a yes?’

Fenris swallowed and offered something between a shrug and a nod. He glared at the dwarf, who still refused to be intimidated. ‘What are you doing? I’ve managed to get over Hawke. Why bring him up?’

‘Because … you’re inflicting the pain you felt when you realised you’d lost your first love on Dorian. I think you care deeply for him, you’re just frightened. To lose him again, to be wrong about him; you’re scared of his magic, his origin, that he might find you’re too broody after all, or that he’ll just tire of you. Thing is, this way you’re sure to lose him.’ Varric tipped his forehead. ‘That brain of yours is quite brilliant at times, but this … this is something you need to answer with your heart. And that, tell me if I’m wrong, is screaming at you to find him and give him all you’ve got to give.’

‘Sounds like out of one of your novels.’

Varric made a disgusted face, but there was a hint of a grin. It looked rather victorious. It was only then Fenris noticed he had started to unpack at some point during their conversation. ‘Too unrealistic,’ the dwarf said. ‘No-one’s so stupid twice.’

Ϡ

‘Both the Templar Order and the Circle of Magi will be back. But,’ Leliana smiled, ‘I don’t think they will be the mess they were. The templars have decided to stay with us. With Cullen to be precise.’ A slight flush crept up Cullen’s cheeks and Leliana patted his arm. ‘I must say, I’m … not too unhappy with this. Although I’d have preferred to see the Circle gone for good.’

Lenkala frowned and ran her hand over the map on the war table. ‘Is there a chance that it will be more … open? Will there be an opt-out option?’

‘I’m working on it,’ Leliana said. ‘The templars are virtually non-existent, most mages are dead or in hiding. If we want those to come out, we have to offer them a chance to say, thanks, but no thanks.’

‘Wardens?’

Leliana made a face. ‘Stroud’s apparently on his way North. I talked to Núria and she doesn’t really see a point in returning to Amaranthine. She’ll leave it in the hands of her Seneschal and is considering staying here. And … so am I. I have two mages in my family, and before everything’s settled I’d prefer them to be in a place where I know they’re safe. If that is all right with you.’

Lenkala opened her arms wide. ‘How many people have I kicked out yet?’ Leliana merely smiled. ‘Anything else?’

Josephine nodded. ‘One thing. Blackwall has asked to follow Stroud.’

‘The first to go, then. Regrettable but not unexpected. I wonder what will become of us. The Inquisition. The first one was disbanded when its original purpose was fulfilled. What about us? Should I … end it?’

‘That is entirely your decision.’

Lenkala raised her arms. ‘I know, Josie. But you’re my counsellors. What do you think?’

‘I will return home. You know why.’ Indeed. Josephine was betrothed. Her stay with the Inquisition would soon end.

‘So Cullen and I are staying here,’ Leliana said. ‘A new base for the templar order? Although I’d prefer this place to be a shelter for mages that wish to remain outside the circle.’

‘Can we do the impossible and be both?’ Lenkala looked at Cullen. ‘You need new recruits. Think you can impress on them that they are to protect the mages as much as everyone else?’

Cullen smiled vaguely. ‘Actually, yes. But I doubt if mages that don’t want to join a circle want to be in the templar headquarters of all places.’

Leliana rubbed her chin. ‘If you can make that work, it would be a very strong message. That the templars are not a threat, don’t abuse their power, and know their limits. That they may be in the same place as the mages but their authority ends where that of the Inquisition begins. That the Inquisition is ultimately above them, and that those protected by us cannot be touched.’

‘That sounds difficult,’ Cullen said. ‘And I am not certain if that is a message I’d be too happy with.’

‘Deal breaker?’

‘No.’

Leliana grinned. ‘Well then it’s worth a try, no? Lenka?’

‘I like it. And I want our mages here to feel safe. Does anyone know what Dorian intends to do? He hinted he’d leave when all is done. Or Varric? Or the chargers?’

Leliana smiled. ‘I think Dorian has something in mind outside of Skyhold, but … the impression I got is that he intends to scour the Western Approach rather than that he wants to leave. Apparently the venatori have retreated there. The good news is that he’ll have a bodyguard, if I’m not mistaken. But the one who is getting nervous is Varric. He wants to go home and I think he soon will.

‘The chargers seem to feel quite at home here, they aren’t going anywhere. The question, Lenka, is what you want.’

‘I want … I want a place to stay. My clan won’t take me because they already have a keeper and an apprentice. I … could go and find another clan … hope that they need a mage.’ She shook her head. ‘For me … for me there’s nothing out there. I need the Inquisition more than it needs me, I fear.’

Josephine folded her arms. ‘I don’t know about that. You are an excellent leader. The fact that you are a mage turned out to open more doors than it closed, and that you are an elf caused your enemies to underestimate you. That won’t change. At this time, there is no-one who could follow you. In the long run, it is something you need to consider.’

Lenkala tilted her head ‘Think I’ll die soon, Josie?’

The Antivan’s eyes widened. ‘That … is not what I wanted to say!’

Lenkala laughed ‘No. I know. But I have no intention to leave, so for the moment it’s unimportant.’ She ran her hand over the map again, taking in the numerous signs and scribbling. ‘I … wanted to clear out this room, but I don’t think I’ll do that just yet, or any time soon. Speaking of successors … How long are you staying, Josie, and who will follow in your footsteps?’

‘Have you considered Dorian?’

The other three stared at Josephine. ‘Dorian?’ Lenkala echoed. ‘I don’t know.’

Josephine shrugged. ‘He’s good. Ask him. I’ll stay for a while, by the time I leave I trust what remains of the venatori will be history.’

Leliana rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘Josie … Out of the top of my head I know seventy reasons why Dorian is a horrible choice.’

Josephine gave her friend a challenging look. ‘Name them.’

Leliana started tipping them off on her fingers. ‘Mage. Tevinter. Swagger. Mage. Altus. Mustachio.’ By now, Josephine and Lenkala were both laughing. ‘Really, not too long ago you told me he’s got a drinking problem. Now you want him as ambassador?’

Josephine shrugged. ‘I’ll address four out of those … well, five disguised as seven points. We’re still waiting for at least sixty-three, actually sixty-five. Yes, he’s a mage. Who better to help build trust in other mages? Our Inquisitor is a mage, too, and has earned herself quite a bit of respect. His Tevene ancestry is irrelevant. It is an open secret that he has been disowned by his family, everyone from the Korcari wilds to Seheron knows that. He is practically stateless. The swagger can be a good thing, and he knows when to cut it out. And I had him watched for a time. I think Cole stole from the wine cellar and made it look like him to stop him from going there. That was … after he got completely smashed following his meeting with his father. So any wine he wants had to go through the imports. And those are my resort.’ She folded her arms. ‘He drank … very regularly and more than is wise following that, got drunk in the tavern once with Bull and Sera, and since then, nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No. He’s drinking milk. He doesn’t strike me as the type to hide anything, and if he does drink, I have no idea where he buys his stuff. Short of smugglers, which I doubt we have, there is no way he could drink secretly.’

Leliana smiled. ‘Josie … sometimes you scare me.’

‘Because you think you’re the only one who has more than one pair of eyes?’

‘Because … well … yes. Still. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’

‘I think this is a horrible plan,’ Cullen said darkly. ‘I mean … I know a bit about instability. It isn’t a good thing in an ambassador. It’s why I’m … very uncertain if I’m a good leader for the templars.’

Lenkala tutted. ‘All right. Here’s the deal. Cullen, you’re more stable than I’ve ever seen you. And let’s please, please not talk about Dorian as if he were inveterate drunkard.’

‘That was never what I said!’ Josephine said emphatically.

‘I know. You were worried, you stated your concern, and you have no more reason for it, is that it?’

‘Yes. Exactly.’

‘Good. I don’t want any rumours going around that can only do harm. The thing is … I like the idea. I’ll throw it to him as something to chew on. If he refuses, I want an alternative, Josie. If he accepts, I’m happy with it.’ She frowned slightly. ‘I like the idea because … there is no-one who knows better how wrong too much power can go. And boy, do we have power.’ She gestured at the map. ‘Look at this! We have connections to templars, such as they are, the wardens, mages, and courts. We have more information than any ruler in the south. We have a qunari with no qualms about spilling anything he knows. We have a Tevinter mage who is pissed off enough to do the same. We have the Nightingale. The Divine was part of us. We, my friends, are a power I never wanted to head. And Dorian … Dorian knows how easily such a construct become a cancerous monster. We’re bloody dangerous is what we are.’

‘Well, there’s Cole if you want to detect a growing cancer.’

Lenkala smiled at Leliana. ‘Yes. And I fully rely on him in that regard. Him and you, as it were. Still. We, the heads of this particular hydra, need to be aware of the threat we could become if our control slips.’

‘You realise that it doesn’t depend entirely on Dorian,’ Leliana said. ‘He’ll want to convince Fenris. And … I’m not sure if Fenris of all people can be convinced to stick with a mage-friendly organisation led by a mage.’

Cullen tapped his nose with a finger. ‘That won’t be an issue. Fenris … if this between them is really anything worth considering, Fenris will support Dorian no matter what.’

‘You think he’ll defer to him?’

Cullen snorted. ‘No. And I don’t recommend saying that to his face. Deference has nothing to do with it. The thing that brought him here looking for Hawke. Loyalty.’

‘Next you’ll suggest Fenris as ambassador.’

Josephine scowled. ‘Ah. No. Just no.’

Cullen smiled. ‘I may have something else for him. We’ll see.’

 

 


	25. Non me tenet vincula, non me tenet clavis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is a Carmina Burana line, taken out of Estuans Interius and means – roughly – No chains or key hold me.))

Núria eyed the elf with some caution. He seemed intense. He always did. He also seemed to avoid looking at her. Cullen looked from one to the other. ‘You don’t like each other, do you?’

The Warden licked her lips. ‘I can’t even say that. I’m just not certain how careful I should be around a man who is a known killer and might be holding a grudge against me.’

Fenris did look at her then. ‘I don’t. And I believe your body count includes more than darkspawn, too.’

She grinned at him, unabashedly. ‘True.’ Núria folded her arms. ‘So. What do you need, Cullen?’

The templar nodded curtly. ‘I need … I need a cathartic corrective. The Inquisitor means for us to be a refuge for mages as well as the Templars’ new head-quarters. And the only way I can see this work, is if we have someone who is not part of either group representing their interests. I need someone who is not a templar to communicate to the mages why the templars are here but not a threat. I need someone to communicate to the rest why we are not a circle with the restrictions that come with it, but allow a lot more leeway. I also need someone either group can address. Safely, without fear.’ He started pacing. ‘I kept thinking and thinking. I can’t be that person because I am a templar. And which person is there who I can trust to be absolutely neutral?’ He stopped and looked at them again. ‘No-one. No-one can be neutral, too much has happened on both sides. Everyone sympathises, at least to a degree, with someone. You two do that very openly, and I’ve heard rumours of both of you that you consider staying here. Is that correct?’

Núria shrugged. ‘Yes. The Grey Wardens are all but history. I must say, I would welcome being able to be useful.’

Fenris smirked. It looked rather frightening. ‘I have no idea. I … may remain here, but I cannot tell right now. It depends on a few things I cannot predict.’

‘Any idea when you’ll know?’

‘Soon.’

‘Very well. In case it isn’t obvious, I’d ask you to be the representatives. Núria, you support the mages, I take it.’

‘What gave me away?’ she asked with a grin. ‘Our first meeting? Jowan?’

The templar actually smiled back. ‘Both. Fenris, I know where you stand. None of you will decide alone, if there is a decision to be made. You will appear as one and come to me if you cannot find a consensus. If you agree on something, the one who gives in has to fully support the decision that was made. Otherwise, don’t make the decision.’

‘What can we expect?’ Fenris asked.

‘Mostly unfounded fears and suspicions, probably from either side. Not the templars as much as common folk. But the mages will be concerned, and with good reason. If a mage claims they have been harassed, look into it. If by a templar, bring it to me. What I want you to do is be out there and communicate. Make sure everyone feels safe and everyone knows that they can come with questions. Make them aware that we take them seriously. Both sides.’

‘I am not a diplomat, Cullen,’ Núria said with a frown.

‘I know. Neither is Fenris. You’re both brash, angry, and outright dangerous. Which means you won’t be easy targets. This might become a dangerous task, standing between the lines of fire. You will both function as guards as well, in a manner of speaking. If you find a mage causing harm, you have the authority to do as you see fit. If a templar goes rogue, you need to arrest them. And … somehow I have a feeling both will happen. Not at the very beginning, but eventually.’

‘I’ll do it,’ Núria said. ‘But I still think you need a diplomat.’

Fenris glanced at her. ‘If I stay, I’ll help. And I believe sometimes a sharp blade is the most impressive means of communication.’

Despite herself, Núria laughed. ‘I’ll give you that.’

Cullen smiled. ‘You know what? You’ll get along just fine. Thank you. Fenris, let me know.’

Ϡ

‘I have decided what to do with the Inquisition now that Corypheus is gone.’ Lenkala smiled at Cole, and he knew that he would like the conclusion from that look. ‘We still have a function, a place in the world, I believe. And I have something I need to ask you to do.’

‘Anything.’

‘You know better than anyone how dangerous we are. If one of us – any of us – so much as considers abusing the power we have, you need to call us out on it. And if that doesn’t work, tell the others.’ She frowned slightly. ‘Stop us from becoming as corrupt and oppressive as the templar order.’

‘Perhaps you should send the templars away.’

Lenka shook her head. ‘No, I can’t do that. I want them close. I want to watch them, to control them if need be. But I don’t even mean that you should watch all the templars. Just the leaders of the Inquisition, including myself, and Núria and Fenris.’

‘I’ll enjoy watching you,’ he said.

Lenka blinked. ‘I … oh?’

‘Yes.’ He dropped his voice. ‘But it is not enough. To watch.’

‘No? What else would you do?’

Cole offered her both hands. She took them and let him pull her into his arms. ‘Carnation.’ His hands settled on her hips, holding her near him.

Lenka’s eyes widened slightly, both confusion and amusement in her eyes and her soul. He would answer, but not with words. He had none. Instead, he leaned in and kissed her. A ripple went through her body and she clung to him, affection flooding him, enveloping him like a warm blanket in the cold of night. ‘Come with me,’ he whispered against her lips and felt her nod. Taking her hand, he led her outside and to one of the towers that hadn’t been rebuilt. During noontime, the snow melted slightly by now so that there were patches of earth with sporadic green showing everywhere. The winter was gone, life returned to the world.

Cole stopped in the ruins of the structure. Here, the cold wind hardly reached them behind the remaining walls. A small plant had managed to grow here, a single flower, white as the snows of winter, with the typical frayed-looking petals gracing it. ‘I found it yesterday,’ Cole told her. ‘It made me think of you. Not turned into less than it is by becoming a symbol. Despite the cold, it survives and rears above everything around it, looking fragile and faint but hardier than anything else around here. I wanted to bring it to you, but it would have been wrong. I cannot break something that is like you.’

Lenka bit her lower lip and crouched down to look at the carnation, pulling Cole down with her. ‘I never thought I’d hear something so … poetic from a human.’

‘I don’t know if I am.’

‘It doesn’t matter what you are, Cole. I love you.’

He knew that. He really did. But hearing it … hearing those words from her shattered any reservations, any doubt that maybe she doubted him, any fear that she might fear him gone. He pulled her close, pressed against her, inhaling her scent. ‘I want to be with you,’ he said, whispered, spoke with voice and soul. ‘I want to feel you close.’

Lenka’s eyes locked on his, and she nodded. They went back inside, Cole wondering how it was possible that going back felt much longer than coming here. The door closed behind them, and her lips were on his, her hands peeling him out of his armour. And somehow, as if not controlled by him, his hands were doing the same, were desperate to feel warm, soft skin rather than the fabric. She was faster. Somehow, it didn’t feel odd to be unclothed. And when she stepped out of her pants, it wasn’t like way back when, when he had watched Evangeline change. It hadn’t meant anything then, he hadn’t even understood her discomfort when she learned of it. But now … there was no discomfort. Lenka pushed him onto the bed and he let himself fall, reached up and placed his hands on her sides when she straddled him. ‘Carnation,’ he whispered again, taking in her slender form, so fragile, but surviving, always surviving.

‘Cole? Since you’ve never done this, will you let me lead this first time?’

‘Please.’

Lenka leaned down to kiss him, her tongue dipping into his mouth, starting a slow dance with his. He was drowning in her warmth, her scent, the way she felt, and yet he needed more. ‘Let me do something for you, my love.’ Her words were spoken into his skin, every syllable she gave to him more precious than any treasure. He didn’t answer, didn’t need to. She smiled down at him and ran the tips of her fingers over his chest, rubbed her thumb over his nipples and smiled when they hardened. Cole admired how beautiful her body was, but more than that, he enjoyed the way she looked at him, and the way she thought of him. He had watched people having sex. It had been very physical and sometimes ugly. But this … was so much more. The physical was an afterthought. It was about him and about her and about this huge, pulsating emotion that was keeping them close, that wouldn’t allow them ever to be separate again. ‘I want to give you something, Cole.’ Her eyes, for just a moment, left his and flickered to his sex, hard and eager.

‘Please,’ he said again. It was barely more than a whimper, full of need. He wasn’t certain what he was begging her to do, but he knew that he needed it, because he was burning on the inside, and he would surely turn to ashes if she didn’t touch him soon. Her mouth trailed a path down his body to the aching, swollen organ, leaving a trail of fire behind it. When her lips closed around him, encasing him in warm moisture, he fell and kept falling and when he crashed he would die. His hips started moving, but her hands held him down and he tried to keep still. The entire world focussed on the elven woman who sat between his legs, her mouth sucking on him, joy dancing in the wild eyes that held his as if he was everything. When, in truth, _she_ was everything. His hands tangled into her hair, needing to touch some part of her, to hold himself in the world. He heard himself moaning, his breath coming hard and ragged. He had watched enough to know what was going on, to know that he wasn’t going to last long. ‘Wait … wait, Lenka … wait …’ Lenka didn’t wait. She chuckled, wrapped one hand around his shaft and continued, her lips moving over the ridge again and again, her tongue swirling and dancing.

Cole wanted to warn her, but when he thought to do so it was already too late. The building inferno consumed him, took his breath and turned it into a shout, fire streamed from somewhere inside him and spilt. Lenka drank as if it was a gift he gave her rather than his last hold on himself slipping. ‘Lenka …’ She came up to him, smiling, cupping his cheek. ‘I am sorry, now I can’t … not right now.’

Her thumb brushed over his skin, gentle and warm. ‘I know. This was for you, Cole.’ Her smile turned more intense, more of a grin. ‘You’ll recover soon. Trust me. It’s out of your system, now you can enjoy.’

Cole turned to his side. ‘I love you, my Carnation.’

Lenka chuckled. ‘You’ll keep calling me that, won’t you?’

‘Very likely.’ And then he felt the shift, even though Lenka’s expression didn’t change. ‘No, you don’t,’ he told her quietly, suddenly alert. ‘This fear isn’t yours. It’s her, not you.’

‘And who are you to say that?’ Her voice was cold, but there was a struggle underneath, the silent scream of a soul that was forced to act against its will. ‘You are a demon, you will possess me unless I protect myself!’

‘Your words don’t hurt me, Mythal. Let her go. She is not yours. I will not let you harm her.’ He sat up, pulled Lenka with him and stared into her eyes, his nose almost touching hers. The haze in his mind was gone, because Lenka needed him, needed his head clear. ‘Lenka. You can stop her. She wants you to destroy yourself, and that would destroy me. Fight her. For yourself and for me.’ His voice was firm, coaxing like he knew he could. He was no longer the ghost of the Spire, but he wouldn’t lose this battle, not at any cost. He couldn’t.

Ϡ

Leliana ran. The distance from the desk to the door seemed a mile long, and to reach Solas it would be many more. She made a grab for the handle when the door crashed inwards so hard it bounced off the wall. Cole stood framed there, both hands balled into fists and fury and fear blazing in his eyes. ‘It needs to end. Now.’

‘Cole, can you help Darya?’

‘No.’ His voice was dark and wild. ‘I can’t. I don’t know if I want to. But Solas does, and he may try, but it must end.’

Jowan planted himself firmly between the young man, who was, she told herself, a very lethal assassin when he wanted to be, and their unconscious daughter. The mage was pale but determined. ‘What happened and what do you intend to do?’ His voice nearly cracked, but there was no doubt he would fight for Darya.

‘I will carry her to Solas. And I will not let you stop me. You won’t force her because you fear for her. I fear for everyone else! I fear for Lenka.’ His last words were barely more than a whisper.

Leliana clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Did she get into her head?’ she asked, her voice muffled. Cole didn’t answer, he just looked at her, and she knew. ‘Is she all right, Cole?’

‘She is now. She is talking to Solas.’

‘Thank the Maker.’

‘We’ll bring her to Solas,’ Jowan said quietly. He lifted Darya into his arms. ‘But we’ll come with you. We need to be there.’

Ϡ

Dorian still heard Josephine’s words clashing around his head. He had thought the Antivan didn’t trust him, but apparently, he was wrong. He felt flattered. And maybe a little frightened. To agree was to abandon any thought of ever going home. Which he might do, unless …

He took a deep breath before entering his quarters. As he did whenever he had rounded a corner today. It had started to be frustrating soon, and by now, it felt achingly futile. Determined, he opened the door. Surely, the room would be empty.

Dorian looked, and there was Fenris, at his window, staring outside. Dorian’s heart was beating wildly. He tried not to wonder what the elf would say.

‘I wondered where you got,’ Fenris said.

Dorian snorted and approached him. ‘You’ve got some nerve.’

Fenris looked pointedly at his hands, but at least he turned to face Dorian. ‘I broke my rule. That … frightened me.’

‘I figured.’ It was true. He had thought that might be the reason. ‘I should have stopped you.’

‘No. I don’t want any more rules. I don’t want you to wonder what you can and can’t do when you’re with me.’ He blinked. ‘If I didn’t discourage you permanently.’

Dorian shook his head. Instead of an answer, he took the last step that separated them and placed his hands on Fenris’s shoulders. ‘Me? Discouraged? Perish the thought. I am the epitome of courage, a true paragon of virtue and sheer nerve.’ He saw the ghost of a smile on the elf’s dejected face and kissed him, slowly, deeply, trying to chase away the uncertainty. ‘There is something I need to say.’

Fenris pulled away and smirked – smirked! – at him, and Dorian had to struggle not to just hug him. ‘Varric warned me of you.’ The elf took a step backwards, folded his arms and looked him up and down. ‘He informed me you’re a mage. You could have mentioned it.’

‘All right,’ Dorian said sternly. ‘Who are you, and what did you do to Fenris, the angry elven man who always looks forbidding and never jests?’

‘I … may have told him he is no longer needed.’ He shook his head. ‘I do not have to keep running from others. And I … don’t want to keep running from myself. But you wanted to say something.’

‘I did? Indeed, I did.’ Dorian looked at him, at the expectancy and the sincerity of the warrior’s face. ‘You are terribly dull and I hate you.’

Fenris turned away, looking out of the window again. ‘Duly noted. Anything else?’

Dorian approached him and ran his hands down Fenris’s arms, pressing against his back and resting his chin on top of his head. ‘I hope this ends soon.’

‘Well. It will the day you decide to go home.’ The quiet voice was full of badly veiled pain.

Dorian let his hands travel around Fenris, holding him close, hoping to show what he couldn’t say. ‘Or the day you wake up and realise I really am a mage.’ The elf stared stubbornly away, and all of a sudden the real reason for his disappearance was abundantly clear. Dorian’s fear of loss was almost overwhelming, but this man had at least as much right to be insecure as he did. Dorian needed to get over himself. Every bit of experience wanted him to retreat, to coax Fenris into showing him that he was actually wanted. But if he did that, he would lose him because to Fenris, it would be a rejection. No, Dorian wouldn’t let that happen. ‘Amatus. Look at me.’

Fenris stiffened, then turned. Slowly, deliberately. ‘What did you say?’

Dorian’s expression was earnest. ‘You heard me, but I’ll say it again, until you’re sick of hearing it. Amatus. My Amatus … There is a lot for me left to do here. And we’d established that I have to choose before. I made my choice. I cannot even consider taking you with me. Anyone else, I could hardly ask to do such a thing and if offered, it would be dangerous to accept and I’d probably say no at first, just to offer a way out. But you … you cannot, under any circumstances, set foot into Tevinter, and I will not leave you.’ He bit his lower lip. ‘It seems you are stuck with me, Fenris. Better get used to it.’

 

 


	26. Cover the Mirror, Look to the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Chapter heading is taken from Saturn Return by REM. And … we’re done! If there comes another DA game I might pick up this universe again … or not. We’ll see.))

Solas eyed Jowan and the unconscious girl. ‘I need to warn you. I cannot promise you that this will go well.’

‘It can’t get any more wrong,’ Cole said sharply.

‘He’s right.’ Leliana’s voice was steady. Jowan admired her. He didn’t trust himself with speech. ‘It was selfish to wait so long. You need to try … something. She won’t allow us to help her, but … Solas, why is Mythal doing this?’

‘She needs to consume others to survive. She may try to do the same with Darya.’ He frowned. ‘I’ll try my best to convince her that she doesn’t need to. And I need to tell you that once this is done, I will leave.’

‘Why?’ Cole watched Lenka, framed in the door with her arms folded. ‘What is it with you and abrupt departures?’

‘I cannot tell you. I apologise. But I believe I’ve earned so much trust that you don’t question my motives. Please lay Darya on the floor. I have to confront Mythal in the Fade. Do not talk to me, do not interrupt me, whatever happens. A lot is at stake. If you wake me prematurely, I cannot tell what Mythal would do.’ He frowned. ‘Darya … what is she really?’ Jowan and Leliana exchanged a glance. ‘No. I believe I know. But no matter who she is, I need to warn you that at this point, I may not be able to help her. I can protect everyone else and prevent future deaths. But for Darya, the result might be terrible.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jowan asked. ‘She’ll die?’

‘No. She will live.’

The blood mage exchanged a look with Leliana, who offered a small nod. ‘Then go ahead, Solas. We cannot keep watching this.’

Ϡ

The wall supported him, was something solid and real and unthreatening. He wished it would enclose him from all sides, shielding, blocking out the screams. Forehead on his knees, arms around them, hands tangled in his hair holding his head down … But the screams didn’t stop.

Someone tried to pry his hands away and open his shelter, and he let her. The touch didn’t silence the fear and pain that was flooding him, but it helped. He let her hold him close and buried his head in her neck. ‘Too much, too strong … taking me, _eating_ me … And no-one does anything … the fight isn’t for me, it’s against her, but not for me.’ He swallowed and opened his eyes. He dared to look. Solas knelt beside Darya, his posture telling him that he had managed to move their battle elsewhere. ‘How is he doing it? How can he order himself asleep?’

‘He’s Solas,’ Lenka said quietly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. I am.’

‘And Darya?’

Cole opened his mouth and closed it. ‘I can’t say.’ There was a chance. A small one, but Cole wouldn’t be the one who said it wasn’t there. It had to be. He shuddered, remembered the anger he had felt towards the girl who was, actually, innocent. For one horrible moment he had wanted to end the threat to everyone else by killing her, a sharp blade between her ribs, ending her own pain as well as everyone else’s. ‘Rhys was right. I am in control. I wish he could see. I wish he knew.’

Lenka held him more firmly. ‘He did, Cole. Rhys knew.’

Cole swallowed and looked at Jowan and Leliana. The pair stood close to Solas and Darya, their fear evident. ‘Do you know what’s happening?’ Jowan asked, his voice cracking.

Lenka glared up at the mage. ‘Leave him alone, this is horrible for him! Perhaps we should leave? If you’re further away, perhaps it’s easier.’

‘No.’ Cole blinked. The sudden silence was screaming more loudly than the battle. ‘It is done.’

Ϡ

Solas rose. For a moment, Leliana thought he would pass out, but then he steadied himself. ‘I did not realise before today what dwelt inside the girl. Not until it was too late. I am sorry.’

‘What? What do you mean?’ The bard’s voice was hard and shrill, and she even heard her own accent. ‘Talk! Talk before I make you.’

Jowan placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Liana …’ It was enough to calm her at least to not tackle the elf where he stood. ‘Solas, talk.’ His order was quiet, but the underlying threat wasn’t hard to hear. ‘Is she dead?’

‘No. But Mythal consumed Urthemiel’s essence. I could not stop her. If it had been a normal child, she wouldn’t have fought so desperately, I believe, but she couldn’t let so much power go.’

‘Meaning?’ Jowan asked. His voice shook. They both knew the answer already. Cole had scrambled over to Darya, was staring down at her as if trying to sense something. ‘Does that mean she is Tranquil?’

Cole made a hasty retreat from the still form of the girl. ‘Not Tranquil. Done.’ The young man’s voice was husky and scared. ‘She never remembered Darya. She was Urthemiel. Now Mythal holds Urthemiel. And Solas holds Mythal.’

‘Separate them!’ Leliana said fiercely. ‘Jowan, can’t you … there must be something, some spell …’

The mage swallowed and shook his head. ‘No. I can’t. I don’t think anyone can, at this point.’

‘Morrigan could, she did something!’

‘That was different. That aside, who would you have me thrust into a darkspawn and killed? Solas or Mythal or both?’

Leliana sobbed. She knelt down at her girl and gathered her in her arms. ‘Solas, please tell me that there is something you can do.’

The elf merely shook his head. ‘If she ever was a normal child, the human in her was destroyed. Had it not been, I believe I could have saved that part. I truly am sorry.’ He walked out without another word. Leliana didn’t have the strength to follow him, and apparently, neither had Jowan. She felt him kneeling next to her.

‘Cole? Is there anything left in her?’

Cole’s eyes were still wide with shock. ‘Nothing. No thought, no dreams, no fear, no magic. All gone.’

Leliana swallowed. Suddenly, she was very calm. ‘Then there is nothing else we can do.’ She reached for the small knife on her belt, looked at Darya’s face, and started shaking. Jowan joined his hand to hers.

‘I’m with you.’ His voice was a whisper of breath against her ear. ‘Together. Our daughter, our responsibility. Our guilt.’

Leliana could never tell if it was he or she who led the knife. Their eyes were locked on each other. The blade sank into Darya’s flesh at one quick thrust. She died without a sound.

Ϡ

Lenka had seen corpses that had crawled out of the water after spending a very long time there. She’d fought them without any trouble. She had burned bodies before they could rise. She had battled an ancient darkspawn, the manifestation of a nightmare, and a multitude of other things other people, in their little lives, had no idea existed. She had fought templars and mages alike. She believed all the blood on her hands had changed her, hardened her. But the moment she realised what the pair was doing, she had to flee.

Lenka caught Solas before he reached the outer gate. ‘Wait!’ she shouted, not really expecting him to do so. But he halted, and his expression was one of deep regret. ‘What was that? What … did you do?’

‘I convinced Mythal that it is better to let me help than to leave a trail of destruction. It’s not in her nature, and to force her to survive this way is highly damaging.’

‘But Solas, Mythal … she’s not a Goddess of destruction!’

‘No.’ The bald mage shook his head slowly. ‘I believe that Urthemiel’s contact with the blight left him damaged. His very essence was not what it should have been. And that carried over to Mythal when she first inhabited Darya. It left her more unscrupulous than she would have been otherwise, self-preservation winning out over her gentleness. Another reason why Darya could not be saved was what was inside Darya herself. I know it is no comfort to her parents, but I do not wish to consider what she would have become later in life. The corruption would have broken her eventually. Not in a year, perhaps not in a decade. But eventually.’

Lenka scowled. ‘She’d have become an archdemon?’

‘Not precisely.’ Solas tapped a finger to his lower lip. ‘Something unique. Perhaps more like Corypheus. Perhaps not as evil. But definitely a threat.’

‘Then is she now a threat to you, if Urthemiel is a part of her?’

A small smile formed on Solas’s face. ‘Ultimately, Mythal is incorruptible. She will heal. She could not leave Darya by herself because she lacked the strength. Was there any point in which Darya seemed desperate?’

Lenka shrugged. ‘No. Wait, I heard a rumour among the guards that she once demanded to be made Tranquil.’

Solas sighed. ‘It is possible that this was Mythal. The real Mythal, without any influence.’

‘So … now you have her with you?’

‘In a manner of speaking. And I really need to leave.’

‘Will we see you again?’

Again, Solas smiled. It was the saddest thing Lenka had ever seen. ‘No. I don’t believe you will. Look after Cole, Lenka, and lead the Inquisition as well as you have. It is all I ask of you.’

Ϡ

Josephine was drunk. And starting to get tearful. Her official farewell speech had been quite a while ago, when she had still been sober. It had all been very dignified and quiet. Now she had delivered a much less dignified second speech, declaring that she adored everyone present and hoped to see them again one day.

Dorian sat next to Fenris and tried to ignore her glances at him. He was not going to say anything. At all. It wasn’t like he needed to be introduced.

Apparently, Josie was done with subtlety. ‘Dorian! You need to say something. So they know who follows me.’

Fenris chuckled. ‘Come on, tell them who you are and where you’re from in case someone hasn’t heard it before.’

Dorian glared at him. ‘You mock me now. We’ll see who’s laughing later.’

‘I look forward to it. Maybe you want to return a favour? I think it’s time for that.’

Dorian blinked, ignoring the Antivan whose patience was starting to wane. ‘Favour?’

Fenris tutted. ‘The one I did you last night. And the night before. Twice, because I can’t seem to resist your perfect body.’

‘Ah. Let’s discuss that when we’re alone, shall we? But … Gladly, Fenris. If you want it.’ He raised his hand. ‘Later! Please! Before I start thinking about that and become completely unpresentable!’ Still grinning, Dorian left the table and walked up to the throne. He spread his arms wide. ‘Well. My name is Dorian Pavus. I come from Vyrantium. That’s in Tevinter.’ He looked at Lenka. ‘Just so you know, if you thought you could leave me here now when you go out and play, you are very wrong.’

Lenkala grinned at him. ‘Wouldn’t even dare suggest that.’

‘Good.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Well. I don’t thank people, you know. As in ever. I never thanked Gereon Alexius for being a patient teacher and someone who encouraged me in my wish for change. Then, of course, he lost his mind and we no longer spoke. I also never thanked his son Felix for being a great friend for many years and loyal until the very end. He is dead now, killed either by the blight or perhaps his father’s own allies.’ He shook himself. ‘Well, here I go, bringing doom and gloom to a party. Thank you, Josie, for asking me to succeed you. And you, Lenka, for trusting me with the job.’ He smiled. ‘And you, my dear Fenris. For being you. Drink, please, all of you, to those we cannot thank anymore. May we never forget them. If I ever meet them again, and if they ask me how it went – I assume that a decent man gets his mind back, if there is such a thing as an afterlife – if they ask me how it went, I want to be able to say that I did my best for a great cause. I believe that I can do that here.’

Dorian looked at his own hands, wondering if he should actually say the next thing. But he would. ‘I also know that some of you are leaving soon. Josie, Varric, Blackwall … have good lives, and don’t forget us completely. If you need us, you know where we are.’ The mage let his eyes travel over the people that were all still looking at him. ‘What? I’m done! Nothing more coming. Get drunk already! Don’t mind me.’


End file.
